Gil: 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 
MARY  ROBERTS  RINEHART 


OFFICERS   STOPPING    IN    TO    F1GIIT   THE1II   PAPEK    AND    PIN    BATTLES 


AMAZING 
INTERLUDE 

MARY  ROBERTS 
R  I  N EHART 

AVTHOR    OF    "K."    "BAB."    ETC. 
ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  THE  KINNEYS 


NEW  YORK 
GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 


COPYRIGHT,   1918, 
BY  GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1918,  BY  THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


OFFICERS  STOPPING  IN  TO  FIGHT  THEIR  PAPER  AND 
PIN  BATTLES    .........  Frontispiece 

PAGE 

HENRI  EXPLAINED  THE  METHOD   ......     130 


I  SHOULD  HAVE  HURT  You  So!"  HE  SAID 
SOFTLY       ...........     .174 

THAT  HENRI  MIGHT  BE  LIVING,  SOMEWHERE,  THAT 
SOME  DAY  THE  BELGIANS  MIGHT  Go  HOME  AGAIN    206 


$576706 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 


\ 


THE 
AMAZING  INTERLUDE 


i 

THE  stage  on  which  we  play  our  little  dramas  of 
life  and  love  has  for  most  of  us  but  one  setting. 
It  is  furnished  out  with  approximately  the  same  things. 
Characters  come,  move  about  and  make  their  final  exits 
through  long-familiar  doors.  And  the  back  drop  re 
mains  approximately  the  same  from  beginning  to  end. 
Palace  or  hovel,  forest  or  sea,  it  is  the  background  for 
the  moving  figures  of  the  play. 

So  Sara  Lee  Kennedy  had  a  back  drop  that  had 
every  appearance  of  permanency.  The  great  Scene 
Painter  apparently  intended  that  there  should  be  no 
change  of  set  for  her.  Sara  Lee  herself  certainly  ex 
pected  none. 

But  now  and  then  amazing  things  are  done  on  this 
great  stage  of  ours:  lights  go  down;  the  back  drop, 
which  had  given  the  illusion  of  solidity,  reveals  itself 
transparent.  A  sort  of  fairyland  transformation  takes 
place.  Beyond  the  once  solid  wall  strange  figures 
move  on  —  a  new  mise  en  scene,  with  the  old  blotted 
out  in  darkness.  The  lady,  whom  we  left  knitting  by 

9 


io      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

the  fire,  becomes  a  fairy  —  Sara  Lee  became  a  fairy, 
of  a  sort  —  and  meets  the  prince.  Adventure,  too ; 
and  love,  of  course.  And  then  the  lights  go  out,  and 
it  is  the  same  old  back  drop  again,  and  the  lady  is  back 
by  the  fire  —  but  with  a  memory. 

This  is  the  story  of  Sara  Lee  Kennedy's  memory  — 
and  of  something  more. 

The  early  days  of  the  great  war  saw  Sara  Lee  play 
ing  her  part  in  the  setting  of  a  city  in  Pennsylvania. 
An  ugly  city,  but  a  wealthy  one.  It  is  only  fair  to 
Sara  Lee  to  say  that  she  shared  in  neither  quality. 
She  was  far  from  ugly,  and  very,  very  far  from  rich. 
She  had  started  her  part  with  a  full  stage,  to  carry  on 
the  figure,  but  one  by  one  they  had  gone  away  into 
the  wings  and  had  not  come  back.  At  nineteen  she 
was  alone  knitting  by  the  fire,  with  no  idea  whatever 
that  the  back  drop  was  of  painted  net,  and  that  beyond 
it,  waiting  for  its  moment,  was  the  forest  of  adven 
ture.  A  strange  forest,  too  —  one  that  Sara  Lee 
would  not  have  recognised  as  a  forest.  And  a  prince 
of  course  —  but  a  prince  as  strange  and  mysterious 
as  the  forest. 

The  end  of  December,  1914,  found  Sara  Lee  quite 
contented.  If  it  was  resignation  rather  than  content, 
no  one  but  Sara  Lee  knew  the  difference.  Knitting, 
too ;  but  not  for  soldiers.  She  was,  to  be  candid,  knit 
ting  an  afghan  against  an  interesting  event  which  in 
volved  a  friend  of  hers. 

Sara  Lee  rather  deplored  the  event  —  in  her  own 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      11 

mind,  of  course,  for  in  her  small  circle  young  unmar 
ried  women  accepted  the  major  events  of  life  without 
question,  and  certainly  without  conversation.  She 
never,  for  instance,  allowed  her  Uncle  James,  with 
whom  she  lived,  to  see  her  working  at  the  afghan; 
and  even  her  Aunt  Harriet  had  supposed  it  to  be  a 
sweater  until  it  assumed  uncompromising  proportions. 

Sara  Lee's  days,  up  to  the  twentieth  of  December, 
1914,  had  been  much  alike.  In  the  mornings  she 
straightened  up  her  room,  which  she  had  copied  from 
one  in  a  woman's  magazine,  with  the  result  that  it 
gave  somehow  the  impression  of  a  baby's  bassinet, 
being  largely  dotted  Swiss  and  ribbon.  Yet  in  a1  way 
it  was  a  perfect  setting  for  Sara  Lee  herself.  It  was 
fresh  and  virginal,  and  very,  very  neat  and  white. 
A  resigned  little  room,  like  Sara  Lee,  resigned  to  being 
tucked  away  in  a  corner  and  to  having  no  particular 
outlook.  Peaceful,  too. 

Sometimes  in  the  morning  between  straightening 
her  room  and  going  to  the  market  for  Aunt  Harriet, 
Sara  Lee  looked  at  a  newspaper.  So  she  knew  there 
was  a  war.  She  read  the  headings,  and  when  the 
matter  came  up  for  mention  at  the  little  afternoon 
bridge  club,  as  it  did  now  and  then  after  the  prizes 
were  distributed,  she  always  said  "  Isn't  it  horrible !  " 
and  changed  the  subject. 

On  the  night  of  the  nineteenth  of  December  Sara 
Lee  had  read  her  chapter  in  the  Bible  —  she  read  it 
through  once  each  year  —  and  had  braided  down  her 
hair,  which  was  as  smooth  and  shining  and  lovely  as 


12      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Sara  Lee  herself,  and  had  raised  her  window  for  the 
night  when  Aunt  Harriet  came  in.  Sara  Lee  did  not 
know,  at  first,  that  she  had  a  visitor.  She  stood  look 
ing  out  toward  the  east,  until  Aunt  Harriet  touched 
her  on  the  arm. 

"What  in  the  world!"  said  Aunt  Harriet.  "A 
body  would  suppose  it  was  August." 

"  I  was  just  thinking,"  said  Sara  Lee. 

"  You'd  better  do  your  thinking  in  bed.  Jump  in 
and  I'll  put  out  your  light." 

So  Sara  Lee  got  into  her  white  bed  with  the  dotted 
Swiss  valance,  and  drew  the  covers  to  her  chin,  and 
looked  a  scant  sixteen.  Aunt  Harriet,  who  was  an 
unsentimental  woman,  childless  and  diffident,  found 
her  suddenly  very  appealing  there  in  her  smooth  bed, 
and  did  an  unexpected  thing.  She  kissed  her.  Then 
feeling  extremely  uncomfortable  she  put  out  the  light 
and  went  to  the  door.  There  she  paused. 

"  Thinking !  "  she  said.    "  What  about,  Sara  Lee  ?  " 

Perhaps  it  was  because  the  light  was  out  that  Sara 
Lee  became  articulate.  Perhaps  it  was  because  things 
that  had  been  forming  in  her  young  mind  for  weeks 
had  at  last  crystallized  into  words.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  of  a  picture  she  had  happened  on  that  day,  of 
a  boy  lying  wounded  somewhere  on  a  battlefield  and 
calling  "Mother!" 

"  About  —  over  there,"  she  said  rather  hesitatingly. 
"4  And  about  Anna." 

"Over  there?" 

"  The  war,"  said  Sara  Lee.     "  I  was  just  thinking 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      13 

about  all  those  women  over  there  —  like  Anna,  you 
know.  They  —  they  had  babies,  and  got  everything 
ready  for  them.  And  then  the  babies  grew  up,  and  — 
they're  all  getting  killed." 

"  It's  horrible/'  said  Aunt  Harriet.  "  Do  you  want 
another  blanket?  It's  cold  to-night." 

Sara  Lee  did  not  wish  another  blanket. 

"  I'm  a  little  worried  about  your  Uncle  James,"  said 
Aunt  Harriet,  at  the  door.  "  He's  got  indigestion. 
I  think  I'll  make  him  a  mustard  plaster." 

She  prepared  to  go  out  then,  but  Sara  Lee  spoke 
from  her  white  bed. 

"  Aunt  Harriet,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  think  I'll  ever 
get  married." 

"  I  said  that  too,  once,"  said  Aunt  Harriet  compla 
cently.  "  What's  got  into  your  head  now  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  Sara  Lee  replied  vaguely.  "I 
just What's  the  use  ?  " 

Aunt  Harriet  was  conscious  of  a  hazy  impression 
of  indelicacy.  Coming  from  Sara  Lee  it  was  startling 
and  revolutionary.  In  Aunt  Harriet's  world  young 
women  did  not  question  their  duty,  which  was  to 
marry,  preferably  some  one  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
bear  children,  who  would  be  wheeled  about  that  same 
neighborhood  in  perambulators  and  who  would  ulti 
mately  grow  up  and  look  after  themselves. 

"The  use?  "she  asked  tartly. 

"Of  having  babies,  and  getting  to  care  about  them, 

and  then There  will  always  be  wars,  won't 

there?" 


I4      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  You  turn  over  and  go  to  sleep,"  counseled  Aunt 
Harriet.  "  And  stop  looking  twenty  years  or  more 
ahead."  She  hesitated.  "  You  haven't  quarreled 
with  Harvey,  have  you?  " 

Sara  Lee  turned  over  obediently. 

"No.  It's  not  that,"  she  said.  And  the  door 
closed. 

Perhaps,  had  she  ever  had  time  during  the  crowded 
months  that  followed,  Sara  Lee  would  have  dated  cer 
tain  things  from  that  cold  frosty  night  in  December 
when  she  began  to  question  things.  For  after  all  that 
was  what  it  came  to.  She  did  not  revolt.  She  ques 
tioned. 

She  lay  in  her  white  bed  and  looked  at  things  for  the 
first  time.  The  sky  had  seemed  low  that  night. 
Things  were  nearer.  The  horizon  was  close.  And 
beyond  that  peaceful  horizon,  to  the  east,  something 
was  going  on  that  could  not  be  ignored.  Men  were 
dying.  Killing  and  dying.  Men  who  had  been 
waited  for  as  Anna  watched  for  her  child. 

Downstairs  she  could  hear  Aunt  Harriet  moving 
about.  The  street  was  quiet,  until  a  crowd  of  young 
people  —  she  knew  them  by  their  voices  —  went  by, 
laughing. 

"  It's  horrible,"  said  Sara  Lee  to  herself.  There 
was  a  change  in  her,  but  she  was  still  inarticulate. 
Somewhere  in  her  mind,  but  not  formulated,  was  the 
feeling  that  she  was  too  comfortable.  Her  peace  was 
a  cheap  peace,  bought  at  no  price.  Her  last  waking 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      15 

determination  was  to  finish  the  afghan  quickly  and  to 
begin  to  knit  for  the  men  at  the  war. 

Uncle  James  was  ill  the  next  morning.  Sara  Lee 
went  for  the  doctor,  but  Anna's  hour  had  come  and  he 
was  with  her.  Late  in  the  afternoon  he  came,  how 
ever,  looking  a  bit  gray  round  the  mouth  with  fatigue, 
but  triumphant.  He  had  on  these  occasions  always 
a  sense  of  victory;  even,  in  a  way,  a  feeling  of  being 
part  of  a  great  purpose.  He  talked  at  such  times  of 
the  race,  as  one  may  who  is  doing  his  best  by  it. 

"  Well,"  he  said  when  Sara  Lee  opened  the  door, 
"  it's  a  boy.  Eight  pounds.  Going  to  be  red-headed, 
too."  He  chuckled. 

"A  boy!"  said  Sara  Lee.  "I  — don't  you  bring 
any  girl  babies  any  more?  " 

The  doctor  put  down  his  hat  and  glanced  at  her. 

"  Wanted  a  girl,  to  be  named  for  you  ?  " 

"  No.  It's  not  that.  It's  only "  She  checked 

herself.  He  wouldn't  understand.  The  race  re 
quired  girl  babies.  "  I've  put  a  blue  bow  on  my  af 
ghan.  Pink  is  for  boys,"  she  said,  and  led  the  way 
upstairs. 

Very  simple  and  orderly  was  the  small  house,  as 
simple  and  orderly  as  Sara  Lee's  days  in  it.  Time 
was  to  come  when  Sara  Lee,  having  left  it,  ached  for 
it  with  every  fiber  of  her  body  and  her  soul  —  for  its 
bright  curtains  and  fresh  paint,  its  regularity,  its  shin 
ing  brasses  and  growing  plants,  its  very  kitchen  pans 
and  green-and-white  oilcloth.  She  was  to  ache,  too, 


16      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

for  her  friends  —  their  small  engrossing  cares,  their 
kindly  interest,  their  familiar  faces. 

Time  was  to  come,  too,  when  she  came  back,  not  to 
the  little  house,  it  is  true,  but  to  her  friends,  to  Anna 
and  the  others.  But  they  had  not  grown  and  Sara  Lee 
had.  And  that  is  the  story. 

Uncle  James  died  the  next  day.  One  moment  he 
was  there,  an  uneasy  figure,  under  the  tulip  quilt,  and 
the  next  he  had  gone  away  entirely,  leaving  a  terrible 
quiet  behind  him.  He  had  been  the  center  of  the  little 
house,  a  big  and  cheery  and  not  over-orderly  center. 
Followed  his  going  not  only  quiet,  but  a  wretched  tidi 
ness.  There  was  nothing  for  Sara  Lee  to  do  but  to 
think. 

And,  in  the  way  of  mourning  women,  things  that 
Uncle  James  had  said  which  had  passed  unheeded  came 
back  to  her.  One  of  them  was  when  he  had  proposed 
to  adopt  a  Belgian  child,  and  Aunt  Harriet  had  offered 
horrified  protest. 

"  All  right,"  he  had  said.  "  Of  course,  if  you  feel 

that  way  about  it !  But  I  feel  kind  of  mean 

sometimes,  sitting  here  doing  nothing  when  there's 
such  a  lot  to  be  done." 

Then  he  had  gone  for  a  walk  and  had  come  back 
cheerful  enough  but  rather  quiet. 

There  was  that  other  time,  too,  when  the  German 
Army  was  hurling  itself,  wave  after  wave,  across  the 
Yser  —  only  of  course  Sara  Lee  knew  nothing  of  the 
Yser  then  —  and  when  it  seemed  as  though  the  attenu 
ated  Allied  line  must  surely  crack  and  give.  He  had 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      17 

said  then  that  if  he  were  only  twenty  years  younger 
he  would  go  across  and  help. 

"  And  what  about  me?  "  Aunt  Harriet  had  asked. 
"  But  I  suppose  I  wouldn't  matter/' 

"  You  could  go  to  Jennie's,  couldn't  you  ?  " 

There  had  followed  one  of  those  absurd  wrangles  as 
to  whether  or  not  Aunt  Harriet  would  go  to  Jennie's 
in  the  rather  remote  contingency  of  Uncle  James'  be 
coming  twenty  years  younger  and  going  away. 

And  now  Uncle  James  had  taken  on  the  wings  of 
the  morning  and  was  indeed  gone  away.  And  again  it 
became  a  question  of  Jennie's.  Aunt  Harriet,  rather 
dazed  at  first,  took  to  arguing  it  pro  and  con. 

"  Of  course  she  has  room  for  me,"  she  would  say  in 
her  thin  voice.  "  There's  that  little  room  that  was 
Edgar's.  There's  nobody  in  it  now.  But  there's  only 
room  for  a  single  bed,  Sara  Lee." 

Sara  Lee  was  knitting  socks  now,  all  a  trifle  tight  as 
to  heel.  "  I  know,"  she  would  say.  "  I'll  get  along. 
Don't  you  worry  about  me." 

Always  these  talks  ended  on  a  note  of  exasperation 
for  Aunt  Harriet.  For  Sara  Lee's  statement  that  she 
could  manage  would  draw  forth  a  plaintive  burst  from 
the  older  woman. 

"If  only  you'd  marry  Harvey,"  she  would  say.  "  I 
don't  know  what's  come  over  you.  You  used  to  like 
him  well  enough." 

"  I  still  like  him." 

"  I've  seen  you  jump  when  the  telephone  bell  rang. 
Your  Uncle  James  often  spoke  about  it.  He  noticed 


(8      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

more  than  most  people  thought."  She  followed  Sara 
Lee's  eyes  down  the  street  to  where  Anna  was  wheel 
ing  her  baby  slowly  up  and  down.  Even  from  that 
distance  Sara  Lee  could  see  the  bit  of  pink  which  was 
the  bow  on  her  afghan.  "  I  believe  you're  afraid." 

"Afraid?" 

"Of  having  children,"  accused  Aunt  Harriet  fret 
fully. 

Sara  Lee  colored. 

"  Perhaps  I  am,"  she  said ;  "  but  not  the  sort  of 
thing  you  think.  I  just  don't  see  the  use  of  it,  that's 
all.  Aunt  Harriet,  how  long  does  it  take  to  become  a 
hospital  nurse  ?  " 

"  Mabel  Andrews  was  three  years.  It  spoiled  her 
looks  too.  She  used  to  be  a  right  pretty  girl." 

"  Three  years,"  Sara  Lee  reflected.  "By  that 
time " 

The  house  was  very  quiet  and  still  those  days. 
There  was  an  interlude  of  emptiness  and  order,  of  long 
days  during  which  Aunt  Harriet  alternately  grieved 
and  planned,  and  Sara  Lee  thought  of  many  things. 
At  the  Red  Cross  meetings  all  sorts  of  stories  were  cir 
culated;  the  Belgian  atrocity  tales  had  just  reached  the 
country,  and  were  spreading  like  wildfire.  There 
were  arguments  and  disagreements.  A  girl  named 
Schmidt  was  militant  against  them  and  soon  found 
herself  a  small  island  of  defiance  entirely  surrounded 
by  disapproval.  Mabel  Andrews  came  once  to  a  meet- 
ting  and  in  businesslike  fashion  explained  the  Red 
Cross  dressings  and  gave  a  lesson  in  bandaging. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      19 

Forerunner  of  the  many  first-aid  classes  to  come  was 
that  hour  of  Mabel's,  and  made  memorable  by  one 
thing  she  said. 

"  You  might  as  well  all  get  busy  and  learn  to  do 
such  things/'  she  stated  in  her  brisk  voice.  "  One  of 
our  internes  is  over  there,  and  he  says  we'll  be  in  it 
before  spring." 

After  the  meeting  Sara  Lee  went  up  to  Mabel  and 
put  a  hand  on  her  arm. 

"  Are  you  going?  "  she  asked. 

"  Leaving  day  after  to-morrow.     Why  ?  " 

"I  —  couldn't  I  be  useful  over  there?  " 

Mabel  smiled  rather  grimly. 

"What  can  you  do?" 

"  I  can  cook." 

"  Only  men  cooks,  my  dear.     What  else  ?  " 

"I  could  clean  up,  couldn't  I?  There  must  be 
something.  I'd  do  anything  I  could.  Don't  they 
have  people  to  wash  dishes  and — all  that  ?  " 

Mabel  was  on  doubtful  ground  there.  She  knew  of 
a  woman  who  had  been  permitted  to  take  over  her  own 
automobile,  paying  all  her  expenses  and  buying  her 
own  tires  and  gasoline. 

"  She  carries  supplies  to  small  hospitals  in  out-of- 
the-way  places,"  she  said.  "  But  I  don't  suppose  you 
can  do  that,  Sara  Lee,  can  you  ?  " 

However,  she  gave  Sara  Lee  a  New  York  address, 
and  Sara  Lee  wrote  and  offered  herself.  She  said 
nothing  to  Aunt  Harriet,  who  had  by  that  time  elected 
to  take  Edgar's  room  at  Cousin  Jennie's  and  was  put- 


20      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

ting  Uncle  James'  clothes  in  tearful  order  to  send  to 
Belgium.  After  a  time  she  received  a  reply. 

"  We  have  put  your  name  on  our  list  of  volunteers," 
said  the  letter,  "  but  of  course  you  understand  that 
only  trained  workers  are  needed  now.  France  and 
England  are  full  of  untrained  women  who  are  eager 
to  help." 

It  was  that  night  that  Sara  Lee  became  engaged  to 
Harvey. 

Sara  Lee's  attitude  toward  Harvey  was  one  that  she 
never  tried  to  analyze.  When  he  was  not  with  her  she 
thought  of  him  tenderly,  romantically.  This  was  per 
haps  due  to  the  photograph  of  him  on  her  mantel. 
There  was  a  dash  about  the  picture  rather  lacking  in 
the  original,  for  it  was  a  profile,  and  in  it  the  young 
man's  longish  hair,  worn  pompadour,  the  slight  thrust 
forward  of  the  head,  the  arch  of  the  nostrils, —  gave 
him  a  sort  of  tense  eagerness,  a  look  of  running  against 
the  wind.  From  the  photograph  Harvey  might  have 
been  a  gladiator;  as  a  matter  of  fact  he  was  a  bond 
salesman. 

So  during  the  daytime  Sarah  Lee  looked  —  at  inter 
vals  —  at  the  photograph,  and  got  that  feel  of  drive 
and  force.  And  in  the  evenings  Harvey  came,  and 
she  lost  it.  For,  outside  of  a  frame,  he  became  a 
rather  sturdy  figure,  of  no  romance,  but  of  a  comfort 
ing  solidity.  A  kindly  young  man,  with  a  rather  wide 
face  and  hands  disfigured  as  to  fingers  by  much  early 
baseball.  He  had  heavy  shoulders,  the  sort  a  girl 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      21 

might  rely  on  to  carry  many  burdens.  A  younger  and 
tidier  Uncle  James,  indeed  —  the  same  cheery  manner, 
the  same  robust  integrity,  and  the  same  small  ambi 
tion. 

To  earn  enough  to  keep  those  dependent  on  him, 
and  to  do  it  fairly;  to  tell  the  truth  and  wear  clean 
linen  and  not  run  into  debt;  and  to  marry  Sara  Lee 
and  love  and  cherish  her  all  his  life  —  this  was 
Harvey.  A  plain  and  likable  man,  a  lover  and  hus 
band  to  be  sure  of.  But 

He  came  that  night  to  see  Sarah  Lee.  There  was 
nothing  unusual  about  that.  He  came  every  night. 
But  he  came  that  night  full  of  determination.  That 
was  not  unusual,  either,  but  it  had  not  carried  him  far 
He  had  no  idea  that  his  picture  was  romantic.  He 
would  have  demanded  it  back  had  he  so  much  as  sus 
pected  it.  He  wore  his  hair  in  a  pompadour  because 
of  the  prosaic  fact  that  he  had  a  cow-lick.  He  was 
very  humble  about  himself,  and  Sara  Lee  was  to  him 
as  wonderful  as  his  picture  was  to  her. 

Sara  Lee  was  in  the  parlor,  waiting  for  him.  The 
one  electric  lamp  was  lighted,  so  that  the  phonograph 
in  one  corner  became  only  a  bit  of  reflected  light. 
There  was  a  gas  fire  going,  and  in  front  of  it  was  a 
white  fur  rug.  In  Aunt  Harriet's  circle  there  were 
few  orientals.  The  Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  not  yet 
entirely  paid  for,  stood  against  the  wall,  and  a  leather 
chair,  hollowed  by  Uncle  James'  solid  body,  was  by  the 
fire.  It  was  just  such  a  tidy,  rather  vulgar  and  home- 


22      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

like  room  as  no  doubt  Harvey  would  picture  for  his 
own  home.  He  had  of  course  never  seen  the  white 
simplicity  of  Sara  Lee's  bedroom. 

Sara  Lee,  in  a  black  dress,  admitted  him.  When  he 
had  taken  off  his  ulster  and  his  overshoes  —  he  had 
been  raised  by  women  —  and  came  in,  she  was  stand 
ing  by  the  fire. 

"  Raining,"  he  said.  "  It's  getting  colder.  May  be 
snow  before  morning." 

Then  he  stopped.  Sometimes  the  wonder  of  Sara 
Lee  got  him  in  the  throat.  She  had  so  much  the  look 
of  being  poised  for  flight.  Even  in  her  quietest  mo 
ments  there  was  that  about  her  —  a  sort  of  repressed 
eagerness,  a  look  of  seeing  things  far  away.  Aunt 
Harriet  said  that  there  were  times  when  she  had  a 
"  flighty  "  look. 

And  that  night  it  was  that  impression  of  elusive- 
ness  that  stopped  Harvey's  amiable  prattle  about  the 
weather  and  took  him  to  her  with  his  arms  out. 

"  Sara  Lee !  "  he  said.     "  Don't  look  like  that !  " 

"  Like  what?  "  said  Sara  Lee  prosaically. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  muttered.  "  You  —  sometimes 

you  look  as  though "  Then  he  put  his  arms 

round  her.  "  I  love  you,"  he  said.  "  I'll  be  good  to 
you,  Sara  Lee,  if  you'll  have  me."  He  bent  down  and 
put  his  cheek  against  hers.  "  If  you'll  only  marry  me, 
dear." 

A  woman  has  a  way  of  thinking  most  clearly  and 
lucidly  when  the  man  has  stopped  thinking.  With  his 
arms  about  her  Harvey  could  only  feel.  He  was 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      23 

trembling.  As  for  Sara  Lee,  instantly  two  pictures 
flashed  through  her  mind,  each  distinct,  each  clear,  al 
most  photographic.  One  was  of  Anna,  in  her  tiny 
house  down  the  street,  dragged  with  a  nursing  baby. 
The  other  was  that  one  from  a  magazine  of  a  boy 
dying  on  a  battlefield  and  crying  "  Mother !  " 

Two  sorts  of  maternity  —  one  quiet,  peaceful,  not 
always  beautiful,  but  the  thing  by  which  and  to  which 
she  had  been  reared;  the  other  vicarious,  of  all  the 
world. 

"Don't  you  love  me  —  that  way?"  he  said,  his 
cheek  still  against  hers. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  know!'' 

It  was  then  that  he  straightened  away  from  her 
and  looked  without  seeing  at  the  blur  of  light  which 
was  the  phonograph.  Sara  Lee,  glancing  up,  saw  him 
then  as  he  was  in  the  photograph,  face  set  and  head 
thrust  forward,  and  that  clean-cut  drive  of  jaw  and 
backward  flow  of  heavy  hair  that  marked  him  all  man, 
and  virile  man. 

She  slipped  her  hand  into  his. 

"  I  do  love  you,  Harvey,"  she  said,  and  went  into 
his  arms  with  the  complete  surrender  of  a  child. 

He  was  outrageously  happy.  He  sat  on  the  arm  of 
Uncle  James'  chair  where  she  was  almost  swallowed 
up,  and  with  his  face  against  hers  he  made  his  simple 
plans.  Now  and  then  he  kissed  the  little  hollow  under 
her  ear,  and  because  he  knew  nothing  of  the  abandon 
of  a  woman  in  a  great  passion  he  missed  nothing  in  her 


24      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

attitude.  Into  her  silence  and  passivity  he  read  the 
reflection  of  his  own  adoring  love  and  thought  it  hers. 

To  be  fair  to  Sara  Lee,  she  imagined  that  her  con 
tent  in  Harvey's  devotion  was  something  more,  as 
much  more  as  was  necessary.  For  in  Sara  Lee's  ex 
perience  marriage  was  a  thing  compounded  of  affec 
tion,  habit,  small  differences  and  a  home.  Of  pas 
sion,  that  passion  which  later  she  was  to  meet  and 
suffer  from,  the  terrible  love  that  hurts  and  agonizes, 
she  had  never  even  dreamed. 

Great  days  were  before  Sara  Lee.  She  sat  by  the 
fire  and  knitted,  and  behind  the  back  drop  on  the  great 
stage  of  the  world  was  preparing,  unsuspected,  the 
mise  en  scene* 


II 

ABOUT  the  middle  of  January  Mabel  Andrews 
wrote  to  Sara  Lee  from  France,  where  she  was 
already  installed  in  a  hospital  at  Calais. 

The  evening  before  the  letter  came  Harvey  had 
brought  round  the  engagement  ring.  He  had  made  a 
little  money  in  war  stocks,  and  into  the  ring  he  had 
put  every  dollar  of  his  profits  —  and  a  great  love,  and 
gentleness,  and  hopes  which  he  did  not  formulate  even 
to  himself. 

It  was  a  solitaire  diamond,  conventionally  set,  and 
larger,  far  larger,  than  the  modest  little  stone  on  which 
Harvey  had  been  casting  anxious  glances  for  months. 

"  Do  you  like  it,  honey  ?  "  he  asked  anxiously. 

Sara  Lee  looked  at  it  on  her  finger. 

"  It  is  lovely !  It  —  it's  terrible !  "  said  poor  Sara 
Lee,  and  cried  on  his  shoulder. 

Harvey  was  not  subtle.  He  had  never  even  heard 
of  Mabel  Andrews,  and  he  had  a  tendency  to  restrict 
his  war  reading  to  the  quarter  column  in  the  morning 
paper  entitled  "  Salient  Points  of  the  Day's  War 
News." 

What  could  he  know,  for  instance,  of  wounded  men 
who  were  hungry?  Which  is  what  Mabel  wrote 
about. 

"  You  said  you  could  cook,"  she  had  written. 
"  Well,  we  need  cooks,  and  something  to  cook.  Some- 

25 


26      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

time  they'll  have  it  all  fixed,  no  doubt,  but  just  now  it's 
awful,  Sara  Lee.  The  British  have  money  and  food, 
plenty  of  it.  But  here  —  yesterday  I  cut  the  clothes 
off  a  wounded  Belgian  boy.  He  had  been  forty-eight 
hours  on  a  railway  siding,  without  even  soup  or 
coffee." 

It  was  early  in  the  war  then,  and  between  Ypres  and 
the  sea  stretched  a  long  thin  line  of  Belgian  trenches. 
A  frantic  Belgian  Government,  thrust  out  of  its  own 
land,  was  facing  the  problem,  with  scant  funds  and 
with  no  materiel  of  any  sort,  for  feeding  that  desolate 
little  army.  France  had  her  own  problems  —  her 
army,  non-productive  industrially,  and  the  great  and 
constantly  growing  British  forces  quartered  there, 
paying  for  what  they  got,  but  requiring  much.  The 
world  knows  now  of  the  starvation  of  German-occu 
pied  Belgium.  What  it  does  not  know  and  may  never 
know  is  of  the  struggle  during  those  early  days  to  feed 
the  heroic  Belgian  Army  in  their  wet  and  almost  un 
tenable  trenches. 

Hospital  trains  they  could  improvise  out  of  what 
rolling  stock  remained  to  them.  Money  could  be  bor 
rowed,  and  was.  But  food?  Clothing?  Ammuni 
tion?  In  his  little  villa  on  the  seacoast  the  Belgian 
King  knew  that  his  soldiers  were  hungry,  and  paced 
the  floor  of  his  tiny  living-room ;  and  over  in  an  Ameri 
can  city  whose  skyline  was  as  pointed  with  furnace 
turrets  as  Constantinople's  is  with  mosques,  over  there 
Sara  Lee  heard  that  call  of  hunger,  and  —  put  on  her 
engagement  ring. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      27 

Later  on  that  evening,  with  Harvey's  wide  cheer 
ful  face  turned  adoringly  to  her,  Sara  Lee  formulated 
a  question : 

"  Don't  you  sometimes  feel  as  though  you'd  like  to 
go  to  France  and  fight  ?  " 

"What  for?" 

"  Well,  they  need  men,  don't  they?  " 

"  I  guess  they  don't  need  me,  honey.  I'd  be  the 
dickens  of  a  lot  of  use !  Never  fired  a  gun  in  my  life." 

"  You  could  learn.     It  isn't  hard." 

Harvey  sat  upright  and  stared  at  her. 

"  Oh,  if  you  want  me  to  go "  he  said,  and 

•waited. 

Sara  Lee  twisted  her  ring  on  her  finger. 

"  Nobody  wants  anybody  to  go,"  she  said  not  very 
elegantly.  "I'd  just  —  I'd  rather  like  to  think  you 
wanted  to  go." 

That  was  almost  too  subtle  for  Harvey.  Something 
about  him  was  rather  reminiscent  of  Uncle  James  on 
mornings  when  he  was  determined  not  to  go  to  church. 

"  It's  not  our  fight,"  he  said.  "  And  as  far  as  that 
goes,  I'm  not  so  sure  there  isn't  right  on  both  sides. 
Or  wrong.  Most  likely  wrong.  I'd  look  fine  going 
over  there  to  help  the  Allies,  and  then  making  up  my 
mind  it  was  the  British  who'd  spilled  the  beans.  Now 
let's  talk  about  something  interesting  —  for  instance, 
how  much  we  love  each  other." 

It  was  always  "  we  "  with  Harvey.  In  his  simple 
creed  if  a  girl  accepted  a  man  and  let  him  kiss  her  and 
wore  his  ring  it  was  a  reciprocal  love  affair.  It  never 


28      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

occurred  to  him  that  sometimes  as  the  evening  dragged 
toward  a  close  Sara  Lee  was  just  a  bit  weary  of  hi? 
arms,  and  that  she  sought,  after  he  had  gone,  the 
haven  of  her  little  white  room,  and  closed  the  door, 
and  had  to  look  rather  a  long  time  at  his  photograph 
before  she  was  in  a  properly  loving  mood  again. 

But  that  night  after  his  prolonged  leave-taking  Sara 
Lee  went  upstairs  to  her  room  and  faced  the  situ 
ation. 

She  was  going  to  marry  Harvey.  She  was  com 
mitted  to  that.  And  she  loved  him;  not  as  he  cared, 
perhaps,  but  he  was  a  very  definite  part  of  her  life. 
Once  or  twice  when  he  had  been  detained  by  business 
she  had  missed  him,  had  put  in  a  lonely  and  most  un 
happy  evening. 

Sara  Lee  had  known  comparatively  few  men.  In 
that  small  and  simple  circle  of  hers,  with  its  tennis 
court  in  a  vacant  lot,  its  one  or  two  inexpensive  cars, 
its  picnics  and  porch  parties,  there  was  none  of  the 
usual  give  and  take  of  more  sophisticated  circles. 
Boys  and  girls  paired  off  rather  early,  and  remained 
paired  by  tacit  agreement;  there  was  comparatively 
little  shifting.  There  were  few  free  lances  among  the 
men,  and  none  among  the  girls.  When  she  was  seven 
teen  Harvey  had  made  it  known  unmistakably  that 
Sara  Lee  was  his,  and  no  trespassing.  And  for  two 
years  he  had  without  intentional  selfishness  kept  Sara 
Lee  for  himself. 

That  was  how  matters  stood  that  January  night 
when  Sara  Lee  went  upstairs  after  Harvey  had  gone 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      29 

and  read  Mabel's  letter,  with  Harvey's  photograph 
turned  to  the  wall.  Under  her  calm  exterior  a  little 
flame  of  rebellion  was  burning  in  her.  Harvey's  per 
petual  "  we,"  his  attitude  toward  the  war,  and  Mabel's 
letter,  with  what  it  opened  before  her,  had  set  the 
match  to  something  in  Sara  Lee  she  did  not  recognize 
—  a  strain  of  the  adventurer,  a  throw-back  to  some 
wandering  ancestor  perhaps.  But  more  than  anything 
it  had  set  fire  to  the  something  maternal  that  is  in  all 
good  women. 

Yet,  had  Aunt  Harriet  not  come  in  just  then,  the 
flame  might  have  died.  And  had  it  died  a  certain 
small  page  of  the  history  of  this  war  would  never  have 
been  written. 

Aunt  Harriet  came  in  hesitatingly.  She  wore  a 
black  wrapper,  and  her  face,  with  her  hair  drawn  back 
for  the  night,  looked  tight  and  old. 

"  Harvey  gone  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  I  thought  I'd  better  come  in.  There's  some 
thing I  can  tell  you  in  the  morning  if  you're 

tired." 

"  I'm  not  tired,"  said  Sara  Lee. 

Aunt  Harriet  sat  down  miserably  on  a  chair. 

"  I've  had  a  letter  from  Jennie,"  she  stated.  "  The 
girl's  gone,  and  the  children  have  whooping  cough. 
She'd  like  me  to  come  right  away." 

"To  do  the  maid's  work!"  said  Sara  Lee  indig 
nantly.  "  You  mustn't  do  it,  that's  all !  She  can  get 
somebody." 


30      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

But  Aunt  Harriet  was  firm.  She  was  not  a  fair- 
weather  friend,  and  since  Jennie  was  good  enough 
to  offer  her  a  home  she  felt  she  ought  to  go  at 
once. 

"  You'll  have  to  get  married  right  away,"  she  fin 
ished.  "  Goodness  knows  it's  time  enough !  For  two 
years  Harvey  has  been  barking  like  a  watchdog  in 
front  of  the  house  and  keeping  every  other  young  man 
away." 

Sara  Lee  smiled. 

"  He's  only  been  lying  on  the  doormat,  Aunt  Har 
riet,"  she  observed.  "  I  don't  believe  he  knows  how 
to  bark." 

"  Oh,  he's  mild  enough.  He  may  change  after  mar 
riage.  Some  do.  But,"  she  added  hastily,  "  he'll  be  a 
good  husband.  He's  that  sort." 

Suddenly  something  that  had  been  taking  shape  in 
Sara  Lee's  small  head,  quite  unknown  to  her,  de 
veloped  identity  and  speech. 

"  But  I'm  not  going  to  marry  him  just  yet,"  she 
said. 

Aunt  Harriet's  eyes  fell  on  the  photograph  with  its 
face  to  the  wall,  and  she  started. 

"  You  haven't  quarreled  with  him,  have  you?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not !  I  have  something  else  I  want 
to  do  first.  That's  all.  Aunt  Harriet,  I  want  to  go 
to  France." 

Aunt  Harriet  began  to  tremble,  and  Sara  Lee  went 
over  and  put  her  young  arms  about  her. 

"  Don't  look  like  that,"  she  said.     "  It's  only  for  a 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      31 

little  while.  I've  got  to  go.  I  just  have  to,  that's 
all!" 

"  Go  how  ?  "  demanded  Aunt  Harriet. 

"  I  don't  know.  I'll  find  some  way.  I've  had  a 
letter  from  Mabel.  Things  are  awful  over  there." 

"  And  how  will  you  help  them  ?  "  Her  face  worked 
nervously.  "  Is  it  going  to  help  for  you  to  be  shot  ? 
Or  carried  off  by  the  Germans  ?  "  The  atrocity  stories 
were  all  that  Aunt  Harriet  knew  of  the  war,  and  all 
she  could  think  of  now.  "  You'll  come  back  with  your 
hands  cut  off." 

Sara  Lee  straightened  and  looked  out  where  between 
the  white  curtains  the  spire  of  the  Methodist  Church 
marked  the  east. 

"  I'm  going,"  she  said.  And  she  stood  there,  al 
ready  poised  for  flight. 

There  was  no  sleep  in  the  little  house  that  night. 
Sara  Lee  could  hear  the  older  woman  moving  about 
in  her  lonely  bed,  where  the  spring  still  sagged  from 
Uncle  James'  heavy  form,  and  at  last  she  went  in  and 
crept  in  beside  her.  Toward  morning  Aunt  Harriet 
slept,  with  the  girl's  arm  across  her;  and  then  Sara  Lee 
went  back  to  her  room  and  tried  to  plan. 

She  had  a  little  money,  and  she  had  heard  that  liv 
ing  was  cheap  abroad.  She  could  get  across  then,  and 
perhaps  keep  herself.  But  she  must  do  more  than  that, 
to  justify  her  going.  She  must  get  money,  and  then 
decide  how  the  money  was  to  be  spent.  If  she  could 
only  talk  it  over  with  Uncle  James !  Or,  with  Harvey. 
Harvey  knew  about  business  and  money. 


32      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

But  she  dared  not  go  to  Harvey.  She  was  terribly 
frightened  when  she  even  thought  of  him.  There  was 
no  hope  of  making  him  understand ;  and  no  chance  of 
reasoning  with  him,  because,  to  be  frank,  she  had  no 
reasons.  She  had  only  instinct  —  instinct  and  a  great 
tenderness  toward  suffering.  No,  obviously  Harvey 
must  not  know  until  everything  was  arranged. 

That  morning  the  Methodist  Church  packed  a  barrel 
for  the  Belgians.  There  was  a  real  rite  of  placing  in 
it  Mrs.  Augustus  Gregory's  old  sealskin  coat,  now  a 
light  brown  and  badly  worn,  but  for  years  the  only  one 
in  the  neighborhood.  Various  familiar  articles  ap 
peared,  to  be  thrust  into  darkness,  only  to  emerge  in 
surroundings  never  dreamed  of  in  their  better  days  — 
the  little  Howard  boy's  first  trouser  suit;  the  clothing 
of  a  baby  that  had  never  lived ;  big  Joe  Hemmingway's 
dress  suit,  the  one  he  was  married  in  and  now  too  small 
for  him.  And  here  and  there  things  that  could  ill  be 
spared,  brought  in  and  offered  with  resolute  cheerful 
ness. 

Sara  Lee  brought  some  of  Uncle  James'  things,  and 
was  at  once  set  to  work.  The  women  there  called  Sara 
Lee  capable,  but  it  was  to  take  other  surroundings  to 
bring  out  her  real  efficiency. 

And  it  was  when  bending  over  a  barrel,  while  round 
her  went  on  that  pitying  talk  of  women  about  a  great 
calamity,  that  Sara  Lee  got  her  great  idea ;  and  later  on 
she  made  the  only  speech  of  her  life. 

That  evening  Harvey  went  home  in  a  quiet  glow  of 
happiness.  He  had  had  a  good  day.  And  he  had 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      33 

heard  of  a  little  house  that  would  exactly  suit  Sara 
Lee  and  him.  He  did  not  notice  his  sister's  silence 
when  he  spoke  about  it.  He  was  absorbed,  manlike,  in 
his  plans. 

"  The  Leete  house/'  he  said  in  answer  to  her  per 
functory  question.  "  Will  Leete  has  lost  his  mind  and 
volunteered  for  the  ambulance  service  in  France. 
Mrs.  Leete  is  going  to  her  mother's/' 

"  Maybe  he  feels  it's  his  duty.  He  can  drive  a  car, 
and  they  have  no  children." 

"  Duty  nothing !  "  He  seemed  almost  unduly  irri 
tated.  "  He's  tired  of  the  commission  business,  that's 
all.  Y'ought  to  have  heard  the  fellows  in  the  office. 
Anyhow,  they  want  to  sub-let  the  house,  and  I'm  going 
to  take  Sara  Lee  there  to-night." 

His  sister  looked  at  him,  and  there  was  in  her  face 
something  of  the  expression  of  the  women  that  day  as 
they  packed  the  barrel.  But  she  said  nothing  until  he 
was  leaving  the  house  that  night.  Then  she  put  a  hand 
on  his  arm.  She  was  a  weary  little  woman,  older  than 
Harvey,  and  tired  with  many  children.  She  had  been" 
gathering  up  small  overshoes  in  the  hall  and  he  had 
stopped  to  help  her. 

"  You  know,  Harvey,  Sara  Lee's  not I  al 
ways  think  she's  different,  somehow." 

"  Well,  I  guess  yes !     There's  nobody  like  her." 

"  You  can't  bully  her,  you  know." 

Harvey  stared  at  her  with  honestly  perplexed  eyes. 

"  Bully !  "  he  said.  "  What  on  earth  makes  you  say 
that?" 


34      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Then  he  laughed. 

"  Don't  you  worry,  Belle,"  he  said.  "  I  know  I'm 
a  fierce  and  domineering  person,  but  if  there's  any 
bullying  I  know  who'll  do  it." 

"  She's  not  like  the  other  girls  you  know/'  she  re 
iterated  rather  helplessly. 

"  Sure  she's  not !  But  she's  enough  like  them  to 
need  a  house  to  live  in.  And  if  she  isn't  crazy  about 
the  Leete  place  I'll  eat  it." 

He  banged  out  cheerfully,  whistling  as  he  went 
down  the  street.  He  stopped  whistling,  however,  at 
Sara  Lee's  door.  The  neighborhood  preserved  cer 
tain  traditions  as  to  a  house  of  mourning.  It  lowered 
its  voice  in  passing  and  made  its  calls  of  condolence  in 
dark  clothes  and  a  general  air  of  gloom.  Pianos  near 
by  were  played  only  with  the  windows  closed,  and  even 
the  milkman  leaving  his  bottles  walked  on  tiptoe  and 
presented  his  monthly  bill  solemnly. 

So  Harvey  stopped  whistling,  rang  the  bell  apolo 
getically,  and  —  faced  a  new  and  vivid  Sara  Lee, 
flushed  and  with  shining  eyes,  but  woefully  frightened. 

She  told  him  almost  at  once.  He  had  only  reached 
the  dining  room  of  the  Leete  house,  which  he  was  ex 
plaining  had  a  white  wainscoting,  when  she  interrupted 
him.  The  ladies  of  the  Methodist  Church  were  going 
to  collect  a  certain  amount  each  month  to  support  a 
soup  kitchen  as  near  the  Front  as  possible. 

"  Good  work !  "  said  Harvey  heartily.  "  I  suppose 
they  do  get  hungry,  poor  devils.  Now  about  the  din 
ing  room " 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      35 

"  Harvey  dear/*  Sara  Lee  broke  in,  "  I've  not  fin 
ished.  I  —  I'm  going  over  to  run  it." 

"You  are  not!  " 

"  But  I  am !  It's  all  arranged.  It's  my  plan. 
They've  all  wanted  to  do  something  besides  giving 
clothes.  They  send  barrels,  and  they  never  hear  from 
them  again,  and  it's  hard  to  keep  interested.  But  with 
me  there,  writing  home  and  telling  them,  *  To-day  we 
served  soup  to  this  man,  and  that  man,  perhaps 
wounded.  And  —  and  that  sort  of  thing  —  don't  you 
see  how  interested  every  one  will  be?  Mrs.  Gregory 
has  promised  twenty-five  dollars  a  month,  and " 

"  You're  not  going,"  said  Harvey  in  a  flat  tone. 
"  That's  all.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  it." 

Sara  Lee  flushed  deeper  and  started  again,  but 
rather  hopelessly.  There  was  no  converting  a  man 
who  would  not  argue  or  reason,  who  based  every 
thing  on  flat  refusal. 

"  But  somebody  must  go,"  she  said  with  a  tighten 
ing  of  her  voice.  "  Here's  Mabel  Andrews'  letter. 
Read  it  and  you  will  understand." 

"  I  don't  want  to  read  it." 

Nevertheless  he  took  it  and  read  it.  He  read  slowly. 
He  did  nothing  quickly  except  assert  his  masculine 
domination.  He  had  all  the  faults  of  his  virtues;  he 
was  as  slow  as  he  was  sure,  as  unimaginative  as  he  was 
faithful. 

He  read  it  and  gave  it  back  to  her. 

"  I  don't  think  you  mean  it,"  he  said.  "  I  give  you 
credit  for  too  much  sense.  Maybe  some  one  is  needed 


36      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

over  there.  I  guess  things  are  pretty  bad.  But  why 
should  you  make  it  your  affair?  There  are  about  a 
million  women  in  this  country  that  haven't  got  any 
thing  else  to  do.  Let  them  go." 

"  Some  of  them  will.     But  they're  afraid,  mostly." 

"Afraid!     My  God,  I  should  think  they  would  be 

afraid!     And  you're  asking  me  to  let  you  go  into 

danger,  to  put  off  our  wedding  while  you  wander  about 

over  there  with  a  million  men  and  no  women  and " 

"  You're  wrong,  Harvey  dear,"  said  Sara  Lee  in  a 
low  voice.  "  I  am  not  asking  you  at  all.  I  am  telling 
you  that  I  am  going." 

Sara  Lee's  leaving  made  an  enormous  stir  in  her 
small  community.  Opinion  was  divided.  She  was 
right  according  to  some;  she  was  mad  according  to 
others.  The  women  of  the  Methodist  Church,  finding 
a  real  field  of  activity,  stood  behind  her  solidly.  Guar 
anties  of  funds  came  in  in  a  steady  flow,  though  the 
amounts  were  small ;  and,  on  the  word  going  about  that 
she  was  to  start  a  soup  kitchen  for  the  wounded,  house 
wives  sent  in  directions  for  making  their  most  cher 
ished  soups. 

Sara  Lee,  going  to  a  land  where  the  meat  was  mostly 
horse  and  where  vegetables  were  scarce  and  limited  to 
potatoes,  Brussels  sprouts  and  cabbage,  found  herself 
the  possessor  of  recipes  for  making  such  sick-room 
dainties  as  mushroom  soup,  cream  of  asparagus,  clam 
broth  with  whipped  cream,  and  —  from  Mrs.  Gregory, 
the  wealthy  woman  of  the  church  —  green  turtle  and 
consomme. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      37 

She  was  very  busy  and  rather  sad.  She  was  help 
ing  Aunt  Harriet  to  close  the  house  and  getting  her 
small  wardrobe  in  order.  And  once  a  day  she  went  to 
a  school  of  languages  and  painfully  learned  from  a 
fierce  and  kindly  old  Frenchman  a  list  of  French  nouns 
and  prefixes  like  this :  Le  livre,  le  crayon,  la  plume, 
la  fenetre,  and  so  on.  By  the  end  of  ten  days  she 
could  say:  "La  rose  sent-elle  bon?  " 

Considering  that  Harvey  came  every  night  and  ran 
the  gamut  of  the  emotions,  from  pleading  and  expostu 
lation  at  eight  o'clock  to  black  fury  at  ten,  when  he 
banged  out  of  the  house,  Sara  Lee  was  amazingly 
calm.  If  she  had  moments  of  weakness,  when  the  call 
from  overseas  was  less  insistent  than  the  call  for  peace 
and  protection  —  if  the  nightly  drawn  picture  of  the 
Leete  house,  with  tile  mantels  and  a  white  bathroom, 
sometimes  obtruded  itself  as  against  her  approaching 
homelessness,  Sara  Lee  made  no  sign. 

She  had  her  photograph  taken  for  her  passport,  and 
when  Harvey  refused  one  she  sent  it  to  him  by  mail, 
with  the  word  "  Please "  in  the  corner.  Harvey 
groaned  over  it,  and  got  it  out  at  night  and  scolded  it 
wildly;  and  then  slept  with  it  under  his  pillows,  when 
he  slept  at  all. 

Not  Sara  Lee,  and  certainly  not  Harvey,  knew  what 
was  calling  her.  And  even  later,  when  waves  of  home 
sickness  racked  her  with  wild  remorse,  she  knew  that 
she  had  had  to  go  and  that  she  could  not  return  until 
she  had  done  the  thing  for  which  she  had  been  sent, 
whatever  that  might  be. 


Ill 

THE  first  thing  that  struck  Sara  Lee  was  the  way 
she  was  saying  her  nightly  prayers  in  all  sorts  of 
odd  places.  In  trains  and  in  hotels  and,  after  sufficient 
interval,  in  the  steamer.  She  prayed  under  these  novel 
circumstances  to  be  made  a  better  girl,  and  to  do  a 
lot  of  good  over  there,  and  to  be  forgiven  for  hurting 
Harvey.  She  did  this  every  night,  and  then  got  into 
her  narrow  bed  and  studied  French  nouns  —  because 
she  had  decided  that  there  was  no  time  for  verbs  — 
and  numbers,  which  put  her  to  sleep. 

"  Un,  deux,  trois,  quatre,  cinq,"  Sara  Lee  would  be 
gin,  and  go  on,  rocking  gently  in  her  berth  as  the 
steamer  rolled.  "  Vingt,  vingt-et-un,  vingt-deux, 

trente,  trente-et-un "  Her  voice  would  die  away. 

The  book  on  the  floor  and  Harvey's  picture  on  the  tiny 
table,  Sara  Lee  would  sleep.  And  as  the  ship  trembled 
the  light  over  her  head  would  shine  on  Harvey's  ring, 
and  it  glistened  like  a  tear. 

One  thing  surprised  her  as  she  gradually  met  some 
of  her  fellow  passengers.  She  was  not  alone  on  her 
errand.  Others  there  were  on  board,  young  and  old 
women,  and  men,  too,  who  had  felt  the  call  of  mercy 
and  were  going,  as  ignorant  as  she,  to  help.  As  igno 
rant,  but  not  so  friendless.  Most  of  them  were  ac 
credited  somewhere.  They  had  definite  objectives. 
But  what  was  more  alarming  —  they  talked  in  big 

39 


4o      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

figures.  Great  organizations  were  behind  them.  She 
heard  of  the  rehabilitation  of  Belgium,  and  portable 
hospitals,  and  millions  of  dollars,  and  Red  Cross  trains. 

Not  once  did  Sara  Lee  hear  of  anything  so  humble 
as  a  soup  kitchen.  The  war  was  a  vast  thing,  they 
would  observe.  It  could  only  be  touched  by  great  or 
ganizations.  Individual  effort  was  negligible. 

Once  she  took  her  courage  in  her  hands. 

"  But  I  should  think,"  she  said,  "  that  even  great  or 
ganizations  depend  on  the  —  on  individual  efforts." 

The  portable  hospital  woman  turned  to  her  patron 
izingly. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear,"  she  said.  "  But  coordinated 
—  coordinated." 

It  is  hard  to  say  just  when  the  lights  went  down  on 
Sara  Lee's  quiet  stage  and  the  interlude  began.  Not 
on  the  steamer,  for  after  three  days  of  discouragement 
and  good  weather  they  struck  a  storm ;  and  Sara  Lee's 
fine  frenzy  died  for  a  time,  of  nausea.  She  did  not 
appear  again  until  the  boat  entered  the  Mersey,  a  pale 
and  shaken  angel  of  mercy,  not  at  all  sure  of  her  wings, 
and  most  terribly  homesick. 

That  night  Sara  Lee  made  a  friend,  one  that  Harvey 
would  have  approved  of,  an  elderly  Englishman  named 
Travers.  He  was  standing  by  the  rail  in  the  rain  look 
ing  out  at  the  blinking  signal  lights  on  both  sides  of 
the  river.  The  ship  for  the  first  time  had  abandoned 
its  policy  of  darkness  and  the  decks  were  bathed  in 
light. 

Overhead  the  yardarm  blinkers  were  signaling,  and 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      41 

directly  over  Sara  Lee's  head  a  great  white  searchlight 
swept  the  water  ahead.  The  wind  was  blowing  a  gale, 
and  the  red  and  green  lights  of  the  pilot  boat  swung 
in  great  arcs  that  seemed  to  touch  the  waves  on  either 
side. 

Sara  Lee  stood  beside  Mr.  Travers,  for  companion 
ship  only.  He  had  preserved  a  typically  British  aloof 
ness  during  the  voyage,  and  he  had  never  spoken  to 
her.  But  there  was  something  forlorn  in  Sara  Lee 
that  night  as  she  clutched  her  hat  with  both  hands  and 
stared  out  at  the  shore  lights.  And  if  he  had  been 
silent  during  the  voyage  he  had  not  been  deaf.  So  he 
knew  why  almost  every  woman  on  the  ship  was  mak 
ing  the  voyage ;  but  he  knew  nothing  about  Sara  Lee. 

"  Bad  night/'  said  Mr.  Travers. 

"  I  was  wondering  what  they  are  trying  to  do  with 
that  little  boat." 

Mr.  Travers  concealed  the  surprise  of  a  man  who 
was  making  his  seventy-second  voyage. 

"That's  the  pilot  boat,"  he  explained.  "We  are 
picking  up  a  pilot." 

"But,"  marveled  Sara  Lee  rather  breathlessly, 
"  have  we  come  all  the  way  without  any  pilot  ?  " 

He  explained  that  to  her,  and  showed  her  a  few  mo 
ments  later  how  the  pilot  came  with  incredible  rapid 
ity  up  the  swaying  rope  ladder  and  over  the  side. 

To  be  honest,  he  had  been  watching  for  the  pilot 
boat,  not  to  see  what  to  Sara  Lee  was  the  thrilling 
progress  of  the  pilot  up  the  ladder,  but  to  get  the  news 
papers  he  would  bring  on  with  him.  It  is  perhaps  ex- 


42      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

planatory  of  the  way  things  went  for  Sara  Lee  from 
that  time  on  that  he  quite  forgot  his  newspapers. 

The  chairs  were  gone  from  the  decks,  preparatory 
to  the  morning  landing,  so  they  walked  about  and  Sara 
Lee  at  last  told  him  her  story  —  the  ladies  of  the  Meth 
odist  Church,  and  the  one  hundred  dollars  a  month  she 
was  to  have,  outside  of  her  traveling  expenses,  to 
found  and  keep  going  a  soup  kitchen  behind  the  lines. 

"A  hundred  dollars  a  month,"  he  said.  "That's 
twenty  pounds.  Humph !  Good  God !  " 

But  this  last  was  under  his  breath. 

Then  she  told  him  of  Mabel  Andrews'  letter,  and  at 
last  read  it  to  him.  He  listened  attentively.  "  Of 
course,"  she  said  when  she  had  put  the  letter  back  into 
her  bag,  "  I  can't  feed  a  lot,  even  with  soup.  But  if  I 
only  help  a  few,  it's  worth  doing,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Very  much  worth  doing,"  he  said  gravely.  "  I 
suppose  you  are  not,  by  any  chance,  going  to  write  a 
weekly  article  for  one  of  your  newspapers  about  what 
you  are  doing?  " 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  it.     Do  you  think  I  should?  " 

Quite  unexpectedly  Mr.  Travers  patted  her  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  child,"  he  said,  "  now  and  then  I  find 
somebody  who  helps  to  revive  my  faith  in  human 
nature.  Thank  you." 

Sara  Lee  did  not  understand.  The  touch  on  the 
shoulder  had  made  her  think  suddenly  of  Uncle  James, 
and  her  chin  quivered. 

"  I'm  just  a  little  frightened,"  she  said  in  a  small 
voice. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      43 

"  Twenty  pounds ! "  repeated  Mr.  Travers  to  him 
self.  "  Twenty  pounds ! "  And  aloud :  "  Of  course 
you  speak  French  ?  " 

"  Very  little.  I've  had  six  lessons,  and  I  can  count 
• —  some." 

The  sense  of  unreality  which  the  twenty  pounds  had 
roused  in  Mr.  Travers'  cautious  British  mind  grew. 
No  money,  no  French,  no  objective,  just  a  great  human 
desire  to  be  useful  in  her  own  small  way  —  this  was  a 
new  type  to  him.  What  a  sporting  chance  this  frail 
bit  of  a  girl  was  taking!  And  he  noticed  now  some 
thing  that  had  escaped  him  before  —  a.  dauntlessness, 
a  courage  of  the  spirit  rather  than  of  the  body,  that 
was  in  the  very  poise  of  her  head. 

"  Fm  not  afraid  about  the  language,"  she  was  say 
ing.  "  I  have  a  phrase  book.  And  a  hungry  man, 
maybe  sick  or  wounded,  can  understand  a  bowl  of  soup 
in  any  language,  I  should  think.  And  I  can  cook !  " 

It  was  a  perplexed  and  thoughtful  Mr.  Travers  who 
sipped  his  Scotch-and-soda  in  the  smoking  room  before 
retiring.  He  took  the  problem  to  bed  with  him  and 
woke  up  in  the  night  saying :  "  Twenty  pounds ! 
Good  God!" 

In  the  morning  they  left  the  ship.  He  found  Sara 
Lee  among  the  K's,  waiting  to  have  her  passport  ex 
amined,  and  asked  her  where  she  was  stopping  in  Lon 
don.  She  had  read  somewhere  of  Claridge's  —  in  a 
novel  probably. 

"  I  shouldn't  advise  Claridge's,"  he  said,  reflecting 


44      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

rather  grimly  on  the  charges  of  that  very  exclusive 
hotel.  "  Suppose  you  let  me  make  a  suggestion." 

So  he  wrote  out  the  name  of  a  fine  old  English  house 
on  Trafalgar  Square,  where  she  could  stay  until  she 
went  to  France.  There  would  be  the  matter  of  a 
passport  to  cross  the  Channel.  It  might  take  a  day  or 
two.  Perhaps  he  could  help  her.  He  would  give 
himself  the  pleasure  of  calling  on  her  very  soon. 

Sara  Lee  got  on  the  train  and  rode  up  to  London. 
She  said  to  herself  over  and  over:  "This  is  Eng 
land.  I  am  really  in  England."  But  it  did  not  re 
move  the  sense  of  unreality.  Even  the  English  grass, 
bright  green  in  midwinter,  only  added  to  the  sense  of 
unreality. 

She  tried,  sitting  in  the  strange  train  with  its  small 
compartments,  to  think  of  Harvey.  She  looked  at  her 
ring  and  tried  to  recall  some  of  the  tender  things  he 
had  said  to  her.  But  Harvey  eluded  her.  She  could 
not  hear  his  voice.  And  when  she  tried  to  see  him  it 
was  Harvey  of  the  wide  face  and  the  angry  eyes  of 
the  last  days  that  she  saw. 

Morley's  comforted  her.  The  man  at  the  door  had 
been  there  for  forty  years,  and  was  beyond  surprise. 
He  had  her  story  in  twenty-four  hours,  and  in  forty- 
eight  he  was  her  slave.  The  elderly  chambermaid 
mothered  her,  and  failed  to  report  that  Sara  Lee  was 
doing  a  small  washing  in  her  room  and  had  pasted 
handkerchiefs  over  the  ancient  walnut  of  her  ward 
robe. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      45 

"  Going  over,  are  you?  "  she  said.  "  Dear  me,  what 
courage  you've  got,  miss !  They  tell  me  things  is  hor 
rible  over  there." 

"  That's  why  I'm  going,"  replied  Sara  Lee,  and  in 
sisted  on  helping  to  make  up  the  bed. 

"  It's  easier  when  two  do  it,"  she  said  casually. 

Mr.  Travers  put  in  a  fretful  twenty-four  hours  be 
fore  he  came  to  see  her.  He  lunched  at  Brooks',  and 
astounded  an  elderly  member  of  the  House  by  putting 
her  problem  to  him. 

"A  young  girl!"  exclaimed  the  M.  P.  "Why, 
deuce  take  it,  it's  no  place  for  a  young  girl." 

"  An  American,"  explained  Mr.  Travers  uncom 
fortably.  "  She's  perfectly  able  to  look  after  herself." 

"  Probably  a  correspondent  in  disguise.  They'll  go 
to  any  lengths." 

"  She's  not  a  correspondent." 

"  Let  her  stay  in  Boulogne.  There's  work  there  in 
the  hospitals." 

"  She's  not  a  nurse.  She's  a  —  well,  she's  a  cook. 
Or  so  she  says." 

The  M.  P.  stared  at  Mr.  Travers,  and  Mr.  Travers 
stared  back  defiantly. 

"  What  in  the  name  of  God  is  she  going  to  cook  ?  " 

"  Soup,"  said  Mr.  Travers  in  a  voice  of  suppressed 
irritation.  "  She's  got  a  little  money,  and  she  wants  to 
establish  a  soup  kitchen  behind  the  Belgian  trenches  on 
a  line  of  communication.  I  suppose,"  he  continued 
angrily,  "  even  you  will  admit  that  the  Belgian  Army 
needs  all  the  soup  it  can  get." 


46      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  I  don't  approve  of  women  near  the  lines." 

"  Neither  do  I.  But  I'm  exceedingly  glad  that  a 
few  of  them  have  the  courage  to  go  there." 

"  What's  she  going  to  make  soup  out  of?  " 

"  I'm  not  a  cooking  expert.  But  I  know  her  and 
I  fancy  she'll  manage." 

It  ended  by  the  M.  P.  agreeing  to  use  his  influence 
with  the  War  Office  to  get  Sara  Lee  to  France.  He 
was  very  unwilling.  The  spy  question  was  looming 
large  those  days.  Even  the  Red  Cross  had  unwittingly 
spread  its  protection  over  more  than  one  German  agent. 
The  lines  were  being  drawn  in. 

"  I  may  possibly  get  her  to  France.  I  don't  know, 
of  course,"  he  said  in  that  ungracious  tone  in  which  an 
Englishman  often  grants  a  favor  which  he  will  go 
to  any  amount  of  trouble  to  do.  "  After  that  it's  up 
to  her." 

Mr.  Travers  reflected  rather  grimly  that  after  that 
it  was  apparently  up  to  him. 

Sara  Lee  sat  in  her  room  at  Morley's  Hotel  and 
looked  out  at  the  life  of  London  —  policemen  with 
chin  straps ;  schoolboys  in  high  silk  hats  and  Eton  suits, 
the  hats  generally  in  disreputable  condition;  clerks 
dressed  as  men  at  home  dressed  for  Easter  Sunday 
church;  and  men  in  uniforms.  Only  a  fair  sprinkling 
of  these  last,  in  those  early  days.  On  the  first  after 
noon  there  was  a  military  funeral.  A  regiment  of 
Scots,  in  kilts,  came  swinging  down  from  the  church 
of  St.  Martin  in  the  Fields,  tall  and  wonderful  men, 
grave  and  very  sad.  Behind  them,  on  a  gun  carriage, 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE       47 

was  the  body  of  their  officer,  with  the  British  flag  over 
the  casket  and  his  sword  and  cap  on  the  top. 

Sara  Lee  cried  bitterly.  It  was  not  until  they  had 
gone  that  she  remembered  that  Harvey  had  always 
called  the  Scots  men  in  women's  petticoats.  She  felt 
a  thrill  of  shame  for  him,  and  no  amount  of  looking  at 
his  picture  seemed  to  help. 

Mr.  Travers  called  the  second  afternoon  and  was 
received  by  August  at  the  door  as  an  old  friend. 

"  She's  waiting  in  there,"  he  said.  "  Very  nice 
young  lady,  sir.  Very  kind  to  everybody." 

Mr.  Travers  found  her  by  a  window  looking  out. 
There  was  a  recruiting  meeting  going  on  in  Trafalgar 
Square,  the  speakers  standing  on  the  monument. 
Now  and  then  there  was  a  cheer,  and  some  young  fel 
low  sheepishly  offered  himself.  Sara  Lee  was  having 
a  mad  desire  to  go  over  and  offer  herself  too.  Be 
cause,  she  reflected,  she  had  been  in  London  almost  two 
days,  and  she  was  as  far  from  France  as  ever.  Not 
knowing,  of  course,  that  three  months  was  a  fair  time 
for  the  slow  methods  then  in  vogue. 

There  was  a  young  man  in  the  room,  but  Sara  Lee 
had  not  noticed  him.  He  was  a  tall,  very  blond  young 
man,  in  a  dark-blue  Belgian  uniform  with  a  quaint  cap 
which  allowed  a  gilt  tassel  to  drop  over  his  forehead. 
He  sat  on  a  sofa,  curling  up  the  ends  of  a  very  small 
mustache,  his  legs,  in  cavalry  boots,  crossed  and  ex 
tending  a  surprising  distance  beyond  the  sofa. 

The  lights  were  up  now,  beyond  the  back  drop,  the 
stage  darkened.  A  new  scene  with  a  rengeance,  a 


48      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

scene  laid  in  strange  surroundings,  with  men,  whole 
men  and  wounded  men  and  spying  men  —  and  Sara 
Lee  and  this  young  Belgian,  whose  name  was  Henri, 
and  whose  other  name,  because  of  what  he  suffered 
and  what  he  did,  we  may  not  know. 


IV 

T  TENRI  sat  on  his  sofa  and  watched  Sara  Lee. 
*  •••  Also  he  shamelessly  listened  to  the  conversation, 
not  because  he  meant  to  be  an  eavesdropper  but  because 
he  liked  Sara  Lee's  voice.  He  had  expected  a  highly 
inflected  British  voice,  and  instead  here  was  something 
entirely  different  —  that  is,  Sara  Lee's  endeavor  ta 
reconcile  the  English  "  a  "  with  her  normal  western 
Pennsylvania  pronunciation.  She  did  it  quite  unin» 
tentionally,  but  she  had  a  good  ear  and  it  was  difficult, 
for  instance,  to  say  "  rather  "  when  Mr.  Travers  said 
"rawther." 

Henri  had  a  good  ear  too.  And  the  man  he  was 
waiting  for  did  not  come.  Also  he  had  been  to  school 
in  England  and  spoke  English  rather  better  than  most 
British.  So  he  heard  a  conversation  like  this,  the  gaps 
being  what  he  lost : 

MR.    TRAVERS:     to    France,    anyhow.     After 

that 

SARA  LEE:     Awfully  sorry  to  be But  what 

shall  I  do  if  I  do  get  over?  The  chambermaid  up 
stairs very  difficult 

MR.  TRAVERS:  The  proper  and  sensible  thing 
is home. 

SARA  LEE  :  To  America  ?  But  I  haven't  done  any 
thing  yet. 

49 


5o      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Henri  knew  that  she  was  an  American.  He  also 
realized  that  she  was  on  the  verge  of  tears.  He  glared 
at  poor  Mr.  Travers,  who  was  doing  his  best,  and 
lighted  a  French  cigarette. 

"  There  must  be  some  way,"  said  Sara  Lee.  "If 
they  need  help  —  and  I  have  read  you  Mabel  An 
drews'  letter  —  then  I  should  think  they'd  be  glad  to 
send  me." 

"  They  would  be,  of  course,"  he  said.  "  But  the 
fact  is  —  there's  been  some  trouble  about  spies, 
and " 

Henri's  eyes  narrowed. 

"  Spies !     And  they  think  I'm  a  spy  ?  " 

"  My  dear  child,"  remonstrated  Mr.  Travers, 
slightly  exasperated,  "  they're  not  thinking  about  you 
at  all.  The  War  Office  has  never  heard  of  you.  It's 
a  general  rule." 

Sara  Lee  was  not  placated. 

"  Let  them  cable  home  and  find  out  about  me.  I  can 
give  them  references.  Why,  all  sorts  of  prominent 
people  are  sending  me  money.  They  must  trust  me, 
or  they  wouldn't." 

There  were  no  gaps  for  Henri  now.  Sara  Lee  did 
not  care  who  heard  her,  and  even  Mr.  Travers  had 
slightly  raised  his  voice.  Henri  was  divided  between 
a  conviction  that  he  ought  to  go  away  and  a  mad  de 
sire  to  join  in  the  conversation,  greatly  augmented 
when  Sara  Lee  went  to  the  window  and  wiped  her 
eyes. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      51 

"If  you  only  spoke  French "  began  Mr.  Trav- 

ers. 

Sara  Lee  looked  over  her  shoulder.  "  But  of  course 
I  do !  "  she  said.  "  And  German  and  —  and  Yiddish, 
and  all  sorts  of  languages.  Every  spy  does." 

Henri  smiled  appreciatively. 

It  might  all  have  ended  there  very  easily.  Sara 
Lee  might  have  fought  the  War  Office  single-handed 
and  won  out,  but  it  is  extremely  unlikely.  The  chances 
at  that  moment  were  that  she  would  spend  endless  days 
and  hours  in  anterooms,  and  tell  her  story  and  make 
her  plea  a  hundred  times.  And  then  —  go  back  home 
to  Harvey  and  the  Leete  house,  and  after  a  time,  like 
Mrs.  Gregory,  speak  rather  too  often  of  "  the  time  I 
went  abroad." 

But  Sara  Lee  was  to  go  to  France,  and  even  further, 
to  the  fragment  of  unconquered  Belgium  that  re 
mained.  And  never  so  long  as  she  lived,  would  she  be 
able  to  forget  those  days  or  to  speak  of  them  easily. 
So  she  stood  by  the  window  trying  not  to  cry,  and  a 
little  donkey  drawing  a  coster's  cart  moved  out  in 
front  of  the  traffic  and  was  caught  by  a  motor  bus. 
There  was  only  time  for  the  picture  —  the  tiny  beast 
lying  there  and  her  owner  wringing  his  hands.  Such 
of  the  traffic  as  could  get  by  swerved  and  went  on. 
London  must  move,  though  a  thousand  willing  little 
beasts  lay  dying. 

And  Sara  moved  too.  One  moment  she  was  there 
by  the  window.  And  the  next  she  had  given  a  stifled 
cry  and  ran  out. 


$2      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"Bless  my  soul!"  said  Mr.  Travers,  and  got  up 
slowly. 

Henri  was  already  up  and  at  the  window.  What  he 
saw  was  Sara  Lee  making  her  way  through  the  stream 
of  vehicles,  taking  a  dozen  chances  for  her  life. 
Henri  waited  until  he  saw  her  crouched  by  the  donkey, 
its  head  on  her  knee.  Then  he,  too,  ran  out. 

That  is  how  Henri,  of  no  other  name  that  may  be 
given,  met  Sara  Lee  Kennedy,  of  Pennsylvania  —  un 
der  a  London  motor  bus.  And  that,  I  think,  will  be 
the  picture  he  carries  of  her  until  he  dies,  her  soft  eyes 
full  of  pity,  utterly  regardless  of  the  dirt  and  the  crowd 
and  an  expostulating  bobby,  with  that  grotesque  and 
agonized  head  on  her  knees. 

Henri  crawled  under  the  bus,  though  the  policeman 
was  extremely  anxious  to  keep  him  out.  And  he  ran 
a  practiced  eye  over  the  injured  donkey. 

"  It's  dying,"  said  Sara  Lee  with  white  lips. 

"  It  will  die,"  replied  Henri,  "  but  how  soon  ?  They 
are  very  strong,  these  little  beasts." 

The  conductor  of  the  bus  made  a  suggestion  then, 
one  that  froze  the  blood  round  Sara  Lee's  heart:  "If 
you'll  move  away  and  let  us  run  over  it  proper  it'll  be 
out  of  its  trouble,  miss." 

Sara  Lee  raised  haggard  eyes  to  Henri. 

"Did  you  hear  that?"  she  said.  "They'd  do  it 
too!" 

The  total  result  of  a  conference  between  four  police 
men,  the  costermonger,  and,  by  that  time,  Mr.  Travers 
—  was  to  draw  the  animal  off  the  street  and  into  the 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      53 

square.  Sara  Lee  stuck  close  by.  So,  naturally,  did 
Henri.  And  when  the  hopeless  condition  of  Nellie, 
as  they  learned  she  was  named,  became  increasingly 
evident,  Henri  behaved  like  a  man  and  a  soldier. 

He  got  out  his  revolver  and  shot  her  in  the  brain. 

"  A  kindness,"  he  explained,  as  Sara  Lee  would  have 
caught  his  hand.  "  The  only  way,  mademoiselle." 

Mr.  Travers  had  the  usual  British  hatred  of  a  crowd 
and  publicity,  coupled  with  a  deadly  fear  of  getting  into 
the  papers,  except  through  an  occasional  letter  to  the 
Times.  He  vanished  just  before  the  shot,  and  might 
have  been  seen  moving  rapidly  through  the  square, 
turning  over  in  his  mind  the  difficulty  of  trying  to 
treat  young  American  girls  like  rational  human  beings. 

But  Henri  understood.  He  had  had  a  French 
mother,  and  there  is  a  leaven  of  French  blood  in  the 
American  temperament,  old  Huguenot,  some  of  it.  So 
Americans  love  beauty  and  obey  their  impulses  and  find 
life  good  to  do  things  rather  than  to  be  something  or 
other  more  or  less  important.  And  so  Henri  could 
quite  understand  how  Sara  Lee  had  forgotten  herself 
when  Mr.  Travers  could  not.  And  he  understood, 
also,  when  Sara  Lee,  having  composed  the  little  don- 
dey's  quiet  figure,  straightened  up  with  tears  in  her 
eyes. 

"  It  was  very  dear  of  you  to  come  out,"  she  said. 
"  And  —  of  course  it  was  the  best  thing." 

She  held  out  her  hand.  The  crowd  had  gone. 
Traffic  was  moving  again,  racing  to  make  up  for  five 
lost  precious  moments.  The  square  was  dark,  that 


54      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

first  darkness  of  London,  when  air  raids  were  threat 
ened  but  had  not  yet  taken  place.  From  the  top  of  the 
Admiralty,  near  by,  a  flashlight  shot  up  into  the  air 
and  began  its  nightly  process  of  brushing  the  sky. 
Henri  took  her  hand  and  bent  over  it. 

"  You  are  very  brave,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  and 
touched  her  hand  with  his  lips. 

The  amazing  interlude  had  commenced. 


"VTET  for  a  day  or  two  nothing  much  was  changed. 
JL  Mr.  Travers  sent  Sara  Lee  a  note  that  he  was 
taking  up  her  problem  with  the  Foreign  Office ;  and  he 
did  indeed  make  an  attempt.  He  also  requested  his 
wife  to  ask  Sara  Lee  to  tea. 

Sara  Lee  was  extremely  nervous  on  the  day  she 
went.  She  wore  a  black  jacket  suit  with  a  white  col 
lar,  and  she  carried  Aunt  Harriet's  mink  furs,  Aunt 
Harriet  mourning  thoroughly  and  completely  in  black 
astrachan.  She  had  the  faculty  of  the  young  Ameri 
can  girl  of  looking  smart  without  much  expense,  and 
she  appeared  absurdly  young. 

She  followed  the  neat  maid  up  a  wide  staircase  to 
a  door  with  a  screen  just  inside,  and  heard  her  name 
announced  for  the  first  time  in  her  life.  Sara  Lee  took 
a  long  breath  and  went  inside,  to  a  most  discouraging 
half  hour. 

Mr.  Travers  was  on  the  hearth  rug.  Mrs.  Travers 
was  in  a  chair,  a  portly  woman  with  a  not  unkindly 
face,  but  the  brusque  manner  many  Englishwomen  ac 
quire  after  forty.  She  held  Sara  Lee's  hand  and  gave 
her  a  complete  if  smiling  inspection. 

"  And  it  is  you  who  are  moving  heaven  and  earth  to 
get  to  the  Front !  You  -^  child !  " 

Sara  Lee's  heart  fell,  but  she  smiled  also. 

"  But  I  am  older  than  I  look,"  she  said.  "  And  I 
am  very  strong." 

55 


56      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Mrs.  Travers  looked  helplessly  at  her  husband, 
while  she  rang  the  bell  for  tea.  That  was  another 
thing  Sara  Lee  had  read  about  but  never  seen  —  that 
ringing  for  tea.  At  home  no  one  served  afternoon 
tea;  but  at  a  party,  when  refreshments  were  coming, 
the  hostess  slipped  out  to  the  kitchen  and  gave  a  whis 
pered  order  or  two. 

"  I  shall  be  frank  with  you,"  said  Mrs.  Travers.  "  I 
think  it  quite  impossible.  It  is  not  getting  you  over. 
That  might  be  done.  And  of  course  there  are  women 
over  there  —  young  ones  too.  But  the  army  objects 
very  seriously  to  their  being  in  danger.  And  of 

course  one  never  knows "  Her  voice  trailed  off 

vaguely.  She  implied,  however,  that  what  one  never 
knows  was  best  unknown. 

"  I  have  a  niece  over  there/'  she  said  as  the  tea 
tray  came  in.  "  Her  mother  was  fool  enough  to  let 
her  go.  Now  they  can't  get  her  back." 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Sara  Lee.  "Can't  they  find 
her?" 

"  She  won't  come.  Little  idiot !  She's  in  Paris, 
however.  I  daresay  she  is  safe  enough." 

Mrs.  Travers  made  the  tea  thoughtfully.  So  far 
Mr.  Travers  had  hardly  spoken,  but  he  cheered  in  true 
British  fashion  at  the  sight  of  the  tea.  Sarah  Lee, 
exceedingly  curious  as  to  the  purpose  of  a  very  small 
stand  somewhat  resembling  a  piano  stool,  which  the 
maid  had  placed  at  her  knee,  learned  that  it  was  to 
hold  her  muffin  plate. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mr.  Travers,  "  suppose  we  come 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      57 

to  the  point.  There  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  chance  to 
get  you  over,  my  child.  Same  answer  everywhere. 
Place  is  full  of  untrained  women.  Spies  have  been 
using  Red  Cross  passes.  Result  is  that  all  the  lines 
are  drawn  as  tight  as  possible." 

Sara  Lee  stared  at  him  with  wide  eyes. 

"  But  I  can't  go  back,"  she  said.  "I  —  well,  I  just 
can't.  They're  raising  the  money  for  me,  and  all  sorts 
of  people  are  giving  things.  A  —  a  friend  of  mine  is 
baking  cakes  and  sending  on  the  money.  She  has  three 
children,  and " 

She  gulped. 

"  I  thought  everybody  wanted  to  get  help  to  the  Bel 
gians,"  she  said. 

A  slightly  grim  smile  showed  itself  on  Mrs.  Travers' 
face. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  don't  understand.  It  is  you  we 
want  to  help.  Neither  Mr.  Travers  nor  I  feel  that  a 
girl  so  young  as  you,  and  alone,  has  any  place  near  the 
firing  line.  And  that,  I  fancy,  is  where  you  wish  to 
go.  As  to  helping  the  Belgians,  we  have  four  in  the 
house  now.  They  do  not  belong  to  the  same  social 
circles,  so  they  prefer  tea  in  their  own  rooms.  You 
are  quite  right  about  their  needing  help  too.  They 
cannot  even  make  up  their  own  beds." 

"  They  are  not  all  like  that,"  broke  in  Mr.  Travers 
hastily. 

"  Of  course  not.  But  I  merely  think  that  Miss  — 
er  —  Kennedy  should  know  both  sides  of  the  picture." 

Somewhat  later  Sara  Lee  was  ushered  downstairs 


58       THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

by  the  neat  maid,  who  stood  on  the  steps  and  blew  a 
whistle  for  a  taxi  —  Sara  Lee  had  come  in  a  bus.  She 
carried  in  her  hand  the  address  of  a  Belgian  commis 
sion  of  relief  at  the  Savoy  Hotel,  and  in  her  heart,  for 
the  first  time,  a  doubt  of  her  errand.  She  gave  the 
Savoy  address  mechanically  and,  huddled  in  a  corner, 
gave  way  to  wild  and  fearful  misgivings. 

Coming  up  she  had  sat  on  top  of  the  bus  and  watched 
with  wide  curious  eyes  the  strange  traffic  of  London. 
The  park  had  fascinated  her  —  the  little  groups  of 
drilling  men  in  khaki,  the  mellow  tones  of  a  bugle;  and 
here  and  there  on  the  bridle  paths  well-groomed  men 
and  women  on  horseback,  as  clean-cut  as  the  horses 
they  rode,  and  on  the  surface  as  careless  of  what  was 
happening  across  the  Channel.  But  she  saw  nothing 
now.  She  sat  back  and  twisted  Harvey's  ring  on  her 
finger,  and  saw  herself  going  back,  her  work  undone, 
her  faith  in  herself  shattered.  And  —  Harvey's  arms 
and  the  Leete  house  ready  to  receive  her. 

However,  a  ray  of  hope  opened  for  her  at  the  Savoy 
—  not  much,  a  prospect. 

The  Savoy  was  crowded.  Men  in  uniform,  a 
sprinkling  of  anxious-faced  wives  and  daughters,  and 
more  than  a  sprinkling  of  gaily  dressed  and  painted 
womew,  filled  the  lobby  or  made  their  way  slowly  up 
and  down  the  staircase.  It  was  all  so  utterly  different 
from  what  she  had  expected  —  so  bright,  so  full  of 
life.  These  well-fed  people  —  they  seemed  happy 
enough.  Were  they  all  wrong  back  home  ?  Was  the 
war  the  ghastly  thing  they  thought  it  ? 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      59 

Long  months  afterward  Sara  Lee  was  to  learn  that 
the  Savoy  was  not  London.  She  was  to  learn  other 
things  —  that  America  knew  more,  through  a  free 
press,  of  war  conditions  than  did  England.  And  she 
was  to  learn  what  never  ceased  to  surprise  her  —  the 
sporting  instinct  of  the  British  which  made  their  early 
slogan  "  Business  as  usual."  Business  and  pleasure 
—  but  only  on  the  surface.  Underneath  was  a  dogged 
and  obstinate  determination  to  make  up  as  soon  as 
possible  for  the  humiliation  of  the  early  days  of  the 
war. 

Those  were  the  transition  days  in  England.  The 
people  were  slowly  awaking  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
thing  that  was  happening  to  them.  Certain  elements 
of  the  press,  long  under  political  dominion,  were  pre 
paring  to  come  out  for  a  coalition  ministry.  The  ques 
tion  of  high-explosive  shells  as  against  shrapnel  was 
bitterly  fought,  some  of  the  men  at  home  standing  fast 
for  shrapnel,  as  valuable  against  German  artillery  as 
a  garden  hose.  Men  coming  back  from  the  Front  were 
pleading  for  real  help,  not  men  only,  not  Red  Cross, 
not  food  and  supplies,  but  for  something  more  compe 
tent  than  mere  man  power  to  hold  back  the  deluge. 

But  over  it  all  was  that  surface  cheerfulness,  that 
best-foot-forward  attitude  of  London.  And  Sara  Lee 
saw  only  that,  and  lost  faith.  She  had  come  far  to 
help.  But  here  was  food  in  plenty  and  bands  playing 
and  smiling  men  in  uniform  drinking  tea  and  playing 
for  a  little.  That,  too,  Sara  Lee  was  to  understand 
later;  but  just  then  she  did  not.  At  home  there  was 


60      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

more  surface  depression.  The  atrocities,  the  plight  of 
the  Belgians,  the  honor  list  in  the  Illustrated  London 
News  —  that  was  the  war  to  Sara  Lee.  And  here ! 

But  later  on,  down  in  a  crowded  dark  little  room, 
things  were  different.  She  was  one  of  a  long  line, 
mostly  women.  They  were  unhappy  and  desolate 
enough,  God  knows.  They  sat  or  stood  with  a  sort 
of  weary  resignation.  Now  and  then  a  short  heavy 
man  with  an  upcurled  mustache  came  out  and  took 
in  one  or  two.  The  door  closed.  And  overhead  the 
band  played  monotonously. 

It  was  after  seven  when  Sara  Lee's  turn  came.  The 
heavy-set  man  spoke  to  her  in  French,  but  he  failed  to 
use  a  single  one  of  the  words  she  had  memorized. 

"  Don't  you  speak  any  English  ?  "  she  asked  help 
lessly. 

"  I  do ;  but  not  much/'  he  replied.  Though  his 
French  had  been  rapid  he  spoke  English  slowly. 
"  How  can  we  serve  you,  mademoiselle?  " 

"  I  don't  want  any  assistance.  I  —  I  want  to  help, 
if  I  can." 

"Here?" 

"  In  France.     Or  Belgium." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  We  have  many  offers  of  help.  What  we  need, 
mademoiselle,  is  not  workers.  We  have,  at  our  base 
hospital,  already  many  English  nurses." 

"  I  am  not  a  nurse." 

"  I  am  sorry.  The  whole  world  is  sorry  for  Bel 
gium,  and  many  would  work.  What  we  need  " —  he 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      61 

shrugged  his  shoulders  again  — "  is  food,  clothing,  sup 
plies  for  our  brave  little  soldiers." 

Sara  Lee  looked  extremely  small  and  young.  The 
Belgian  sat  down  on  a  chair  and  surveyed  her  care 
fully. 

"You  English  are  doing  a  —  a  fine  work  for  us," 
he  observed.  "  We  are  grateful.  But  of  course  the  " 
—  he  hesitated  — "  the  pulling  up  of  an  entire  people 
* —  it  is  colossal." 

"  But  I  am  not  English,"  said  Sara  Lee.  "  And  I 
have  a  little  money.  I  want  to  make  soup  for  your 
wounded  men  at  a  railway  station  or  —  any  place.  I 
can  make  good  soup.  And  I  shall  have  money  each 
month  to  buy  what  I  need." 

Only  then  was  Sara  Lee  admitted  to  the  crowded  lit 
tle  room. 

Long  afterward,  when  the  lights  behind  the  back 
drop  had  gone  down  and  Sara  Lee  was  back  again  in 
her  familiar  setting,  one  of  the  clearest  pictures  she 
retained  of  that  amazing  interlude  was  of  that  crowded 
little  room  in  the  Savoy,  its  single  littered  desk,  its  two 
typewriters  creating  an  incredible  din,  a  large  gentle 
man  in  a  dark-blue  military  cape  seeming  to  fill  the 
room.  And  in  corners  and  off  stage,  so  to  speak,  per 
haps  a  half  dozen  men,  watching  her  curiously. 

The  conversation  was  in  French,  and  Sara  Lee's 
acquaintance  of  the  passage  acted  as  interpreter.  It 
was  only  when  Sara  Lee  found  that  a  considerable 
discussion  was  going  on  in  which  she  had  no  part  that 
she  looked  round  and  saw  her  friend  of  two  nights  be- 


62      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

fore  and  of  the  little  donkey.  He  was  watching  her 
intently,  and  when  he  caught  her  eye  he  bowed. 

Now  men,  in  Sara  Lee's  mind,  had  until  now  been 
divided  into  the  ones  at  home,  one's  own  kind,  the 
sort  who  married  one's  friends  or  oneself,  the  kind 
who  called  their  wives  "  mother  "  after  the  first  baby 
came,  and  were  easily  understood,  plain  men,  decent 
and  God-fearing  and  self-respecting;  and  the  men  of 
that  world  outside  America,  who  were  foreigners; 
One  might  like  foreigners,  but  they  were  outsiders. 

So  there  was  no  self -consciousness  in  Sara  Lee's 
bow  and  smile.  Later  on  Henri  was  to  find  that  lack 
of  self  and  sex  consciousness  one  of  the  maddening 
mysteries  about  Sara  Lee.  Perhaps  he  never  quite 
understood  it.  But  always  he  respected  it. 

More  conversation,  in  an  increasing  staccato. 
Short  contributions  from  the  men  crowded  into  cor 
ners.  Frenzied  beating  of  the  typewriting  machines, 
and  overhead  and  far  away  the  band.  There  was  no 
air  in  the  room.  Sara  Lee  was  to  find  out  a  great 
deal  later  on  about  the  contempt  of  the  Belgians  for 
air.  She  loosened  Aunt  Harriet's  neckpiece. 

So  far  Henri  had  not  joined  in  the  discussion.  But 
now  he  came  forward  and  spoke.  Also,  having  fin 
ished,  he  interpreted  to  Sara  Lee. 

"  They  are  most  grateful,"  he  explained.  "  It  is  a 
—  a  practical  idea,  mademoiselle.  If  you  were  in  Bel 
gium  " —  he  smiled  rather  mirthlessly — "  if  you  were 
already  in  the  very  small  part  of  Belgium  remaining 
to  us,  we  could  place  you  very  usefully.  But  —  the 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      63 

British  War  Office  is  most  careful,  just  now.  You 
understand  —  there  are  reasons." 

Sara  Lee  flushed  indignantly. 

"  They  can  watch  me  if  they  want  to,"  she  said. 
"What  trouble  can  I  make?  I've  only  just  landed. 
You  —  you'd  have  to  go  a  good  ways  to  find  any  one 
who  knows  less  than  I  do  about  the  war." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  of  that,"  he  said,  unconscious 

of  offense.  "  But  the  War  Office "  He  held  out 

his  hands. 

Sara  Lee,  who  had  already  caught  the  British  "  a  " 
and  was  rather  overdoing  it,  had  a  wild  impulse  to 
make  the  same  gesture.  It  meant  so  much. 

More  conversation.  Evidently  more  difficulties  — 
but  with  Henri  now  holding  the  center  of  the  stage  and 
speaking  rapidly.  The  heavy-set  man  retired  and  read 
letters  under  an  electric  lamp.  The  band  upstairs  was 
having  dinner.  And  Henri  argued  and  wrangled. 
He  was  quite  passionate.  The  man  in  the  military 
cape  listened  and  smiled.  And  at  last  he  nodded. 

Henri  turned  to  Sara  Lee. 

"You  Americans  are  all  brave,"  he  said.  "You 
like  — what  is  it  you  say?  — taking  a  chance,  I  think. 
Would  you  care  to  take  such  a  chance  ?  " 

"  What  sort  of  a  chance  ?  " 

"  May  I  visit  you  this  evening  at  your  hotel?  " 

Just  for  an  instant  Sara  Lee  hesitated.  There  was 
Harvey  at  home.  He  would  not  like  her  receiving  a 
call  from  any  man.  And  Harvey  did  not  like  foreign 
ers.  He  always  said  they  had  no  respect  for  women.. 


64      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

It  struck  her  suddenly  what  Harvey  would  call  Henri's 
bowing  and  his  kissing  her  hand,  and  his  passionate 
gesticulations  when  he  was  excited.  He  would  call  it 
all  tomfool  nonsense. 

I  And  she  recalled  his  final  words,  his  arms  so  close 
about  her  that  she  could  hardly  breathe,  his  voice  husky 
with  emotion. 

"  Just  let  me  hear  of  any  of  those  foreigners  bother 
ing  you,"  he  said,  "  and  I'll  go  over  and  wipe  out  the 
whole  damned  nation." 

It  had  not  sounded  funny  then.     It  was  not  funny 

now. 

"  Please  come,"  said  Sara  Lee  in  a  small  voice. 

The  other  gentlemen  bowed  profoundly.  Sara  Lee, 
rather  at  a  loss,  gave  them  a  friendly  smile  that  in 
cluded  them  all.  And  then  she  and  Henri  were  walk 
ing  up  the  stairs  and  to  the  entrance,  Henri's  tall  figure 
the  target  for  many  women's  eyes.  He,  however,  saw 
no  one  but  Sara  Lee. 

Henri,  too,  called  a  taxicab.  Every  one  in  London 
seemed  to  ride  in  taxis.  And  he  bent  over  her  hand, 
once  she  was  in  the  car,  but  he  did  not  kiss  it. 

"  It  is  very  kind  of  you,  what  you  are  doing,"  he 
said.  "  But,  then,  you  Americans  are  all  kind.  And 
wonderful." 

Back  at  Morley's  Hotel  Sara  Lee  had  a  short  con 
versation  with  Harvey's  picture. 

"  You  are  entirely  wrong,  dear,"  she  said.  She  was 
brushing  her  hair  at  the  time,  and  it  is  rather  a  pity 
that  it  was  a  profile  picture  and  that  Harvey's  pictured 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      65 

eyes  were  looking  off  into  space  —  that  is,  a  piece  of 
white  canvas  on  a  frame,  used  by  photographers  to  re 
flect  the  light  into  the  eyes.  For  Sara  Lee  with  her 
hair  down  was  even  lovelier  than  with  it  up.  "  You 
were  wrong.  They  are  different,  but  they  are  kind 
and  polite.  And  very,  very  respectful.  And  he  is 
coming  on  business." 

She  intended  at  first  to  make  no  change  in  her  frock. 
After  all,  it  was  not  a  social  call,  and  if  she  did  not 
dress  it  would  put  things  on  the  right  footing. 

But  slipping  along  the  corridor  after  her  bath,  clad 
in  a  kimono  and  slippers  and  extremely  nervous,  she 
encountered  a  young  woman  on  her  way  to  dinner, 
and  she  was  dressed  in  that  combination  of  street  skirt 
and  evening  blouse  that  some  Englishwomen  from  the 
outlying  districts  still  affect.  And  Sara  Lee  thereupon 
decided  to  dress.  She  called  in  the  elderly  maid,  who 
was  already  her  slave,  and  together  they  went  over  her 
clothes. 

It  was  the  maid,  perhaps,  then  who  brought  into 
Sara  Lee's  life  the  strange  and  mad  infatuation  for 
her  that  was  gradually  to  become  a  dominant  issue  in 
the  next  few  months.  For  the  maid  chose  a  white 
dress,  a  soft  and  young  affair  in  which  Sara  Lee  looked 
like  the  heart  of  a  rose. 

"  I  always  like  to  see  a  young  lady  in  white,  miss/' 
said  the  maid.  "  Especially  when  there's  a  healthy 
skin." 

So  Sara  Lee  ate  her  dinner  alone,  such  a  dinner 
as  a  healthy  skin  and  body  demanded.  And  she 


66      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

watched  tall  young  Englishwomen  with  fine  shoulders 
go  out  with  English  officers  in  khaki,  and  listened  to  a 
babel  of  high  English  voices,  and  —  felt  extremely 
alone  and  very  subdued. 

Henri  came  rather  late.  It  was  one  of  the  things 
she  was  to  learn  about  him  later  —  that  he  was  fre 
quently  late.  It  was  only  long  afterward  that  she 
realized  that  such  time  as  he  spent  with  her  was  gained 
only  at  the  cost  of  almost  superhuman  effort.  But 
that  was  when  she  knew  Henri's  story,  and  his  work. 
She  waited  for  him  in  the  reception  room,  where  a  man 
and  a  woman  were  having  coffee  and  talking  in  a 
strange  tongue.  Henri  found  her  there,  at  something 
before  nine,  rather  downcast  and  worried,  and  debat 
ing  about  going  up  to  bed.  She  looked  up,  to  find  him 
bowing  before  her. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  coming,"  she  said. 

"I?  Not  come?  But  I  had  said  that  I  would 
come,  mademoiselle.  I  may  sit  down  ?  " 

Sara  Lee  moved  over  on  the  velvet  sofa,  and  Henri 
lowered  his  long  body  onto  it.  Lowered  his  voice,  too, 
for  the  man  and  woman  were  staring  at  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  didn't  quite  understand  about  this 
afternoon,"  began  Sara  Lee.  "  You  spoke  about  tak 
ing  a  chance.  I  am  not  afraid  of  danger,  if  that  is 
what  you  mean." 

"  That,  and  a  little  more,  mademoiselle,"  said  Henri. 
"  But  —  now  that  I  am  here  I  do  not  know." 

His  eyes  were  keen.  Sara  Lee  had  suddenly  a 
strange  feeling  that  he  was  watching  the  couple  who 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      67 

talked  over  their  coffee,  and  that,  oddly  enough,  the 
couple  were  watching  him.  Yet  he  was  apparently 
giving  his  undivided  attention  to  her. 

"  Have  you  walked  any  to-day?  "  he  asked  her  un 
expectedly. 

Sara  Lee  remembered  the  bus,  and,  with  some  bit 
terness,  the  two  taxis. 

"  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to  walk,"  she  said. 

"  But  you  should  walk,"  he  said.  "I  —  will  you 
walk  with  me?  Just  about  the  square,  for  air?" 
And  in  a  lower  tone :  "  It  is  not  necessary  that  those 
two  should  know  the  plan,  mademoiselle." 

"  I'll  get  my  coat  and  hat,"  Sara  Lee  said,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  do  so  in  a  brisk  and  businesslike  fashion. 
When  she  came  down  Henri  was  emerging  from  the 
telephone  booth.  His  face  was  impassive.  And 
again  when  in  time  Sara  Lee  was  to  know  Henri's 
face  better  than  she  had  ever  known  Harvey's,  she  was 
to  learn  that  the  masklike  look  he  sometimes  wore 
meant  danger  —  for  somebody. 

They  went  out  without  further  speech  into  the  clear 
cold  night.  Henri,  as  if  from  custom,  threw  his  head 
back  and  scanned  the  sky.  Then  they  went  on  and 
crossed  into  the  square. 

"  The  plan,"  Henri  began  abruptly,  "  is  this :  You 
will  be  provided  to-morrow  with  a  passport  to  Bou 
logne.  You  will,  if  you  agree,  take  the  midnight  train 
for  Folkestone.  At  the  railway  station  here  you  will 
be  searched.  At  Folkestone  a  board,  sitting  in  an  of 
fice  on  the  quay,  will  examine  your  passport." 


68      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  Does  any  one  in  Boulogne  speak  English?  "  Sara 
Lee  inquired  nervously.  Somehow  that  babel  of 
French  at  the  Savoy  had  frightened  her.  Her  little 
phrase  book  seemed  pitifully  inadequate  for  the  great 
things  in  her  mind. 

"  That  hardly  matters,"  said  Henri,  smiling  faintly. 
"  Because  I  think  you  shall  not  go  to  Boulogne." 

"  Not  go !  "  She  stopped  dead,  under  the  monu 
ment,  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"  The  place  for  you  to  go,  to  start  from,  is  Calais," 
Henri  explained.  He  paused,  to  let  pass  two  lovers, 
a  man  in  khaki  and  a  girl.  "  But  Calais  is  difficult. 
It  is  under  martial  law  —  a  closed  city.  From  Bou 
logne  to  Calais  would  be  perhaps  impossible." 

Sara  Lee  was  American  and  her  methods  were 
direct. 

"  How  can  I  get  to  Calais?  " 

"  Will  you  take  the  chance  I  spoke  of  ?  " 

"  For  goodness'  sake/'  said  Sara  Lee  in  an  exas 
perated  tone,  "  how  can  I  tell  you  until  I  know  what 
it  is?" 

Henri  told  her.  He  even,  standing  under  a  street 
lamp,  drew  a  small  sketch  for  her,  to  make  it  clear. 
Sara  Lee  stood  close,  watching  him,  and  some  of  the 
lines  were  not  as  steady  as  they  might  have  been.  And 
in  the  midst  of  it  he  suddenly  stopped. 

"  Do  you  know  what  it  means?  "  he  demanded. 

"Yes,  of  course." 

"  And  you  know  what  date  this  is?  " 

"  The  eighteenth  of  February." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE       69 

But  he  saw,  after  all,  that  she  did  not  entirely  under 
stand. 

"To-night,  this  eighteenth  of  February,  the  Ger 
mans  commence  a  blockade  of  this  coast.  No  vessels, 
if  they  can  prevent  them,  will  leave  the  harbors;  or  if 
they  do,  none  shall  reach  the  other  side !  " 

"  Oh !  "  said  Sara  Lee  blankly. 

"  We  are  eager  to  do  as  you  wish,  mademoiselle. 
But  " —  he  commenced  slowly  to  tear  up  the  sketch  — 
H  it  is  too  dangerous.  You  are  too  young.  If  any 
thing  should  go  wrong  and  I  had No.  We  will 

find  another  way." 

He  put  the  fragments  of  the  sketch  in  his  pocket. 

"How  long  is  this  blockade  to  last?"  Sara  Lee 
asked  out  of  bitter  disappointment. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Who  can  say?     A  week!     A  year!     Not  at  all!" 

"  Then,"  said  Sara  Lee  with  calm  deliberation,  "  you 
might  as  well  get  out  your  pencil  and  draw  another 
picture  —  because  I'm  going." 

Far  enough  away  now,  the  little  house  at  home  and 
the  peace  that  dwelt  therein;  and  Harvey;  and  the 
small  white  bedroom;  and  the  daily  round  of  quiet 
duties.  Sara  Lee  had  set  her  face  toward  the  east, 
and  the  land  of  dying  men.  And  as  Henri  looked 
down  at  her  she  had  again  that  poised  and  eager  look, 
almost  of  flight,  that  had  brought  into  Harvey's  love 
for  her  just  a  touch  of  fear. 


VI 

SARA  LEE  KENNEDY  was  up  at  dawn  the  next 
morning.  There  was  a  very  serious  matter  to  de 
cide,  for  Henri's  plan  had  included  only  such  hand 
luggage  as  she  herself  could  carry. 

Sara  Lee  carefully  laid  out  on  the  bed  such  articles 
as  she  could  not  possibly  do  without,  and  was  able  to 
pack  into  her  suitcase  less  than  a  fourth  of  them.  She 
had  fortunately  brought  a  soft  wool  sweater,  which 
required  little  room.  Undergarments,  several  blouses, 
the  sweater  and  a  pair  of  heavy  shoes  —  that  was  her 
equipment,  plus  such  small  toilet  outfit  as  is  necessary 
when  a  young  woman  uses  no  make-up  and  regards 
cold  cream  only  as  a  remedy  for  chapped  hands. 

The  maid  found  her  in  rather  a  dismal  mood. 

"  Going  across,  miss !  "  she  said.     "  Fancy  that !  " 

"  It's  a  secret,"  cautioned  Sara  Lee.  "  I  am  really 
not  sure  I  am  going.  I  am  only  trying  to  go." 

The  maid,  who  found  Sara  Lee  and  the  picture  of 
Harvey  on  her  dressing  table  both  romantic  and  ap 
pealing,  offered  to  pack.  From  the  first  moment  it 
was  evident  that  she  meant  to  include  the  white  dress. 
Indeed  she  packed  it  first 

;<  You  never  know  what's  going  to  happen  over 
there,"  she  asserted.  "  They  do  say  that  royalties  are 
everywhere,  going  about  like  common  people.  You'd 
better  have  a  good  frock  with  you." 

She  had  an  air  of  subdued  excitement,  and  after  she 

71 


72      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

had  established  the  fact  that  not  only  the  white  frock 
but  slippers  and  hose  also  would  go  in  she  went  to  the 
door  and  glanced  up  and  down  the  passage.  Then  she 
closed  the  door. 

"  There  was  queer  goings-on  here  last  night,  miss," 
she  said  cautiously.  "  Spies!  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  Sara  Lee. 

"  Spies/'  she  repeated.  "  A  man  and  a  woman, 
pretending  to  be  Belgian  refugees.  They  took  them 
away  at  daylight.  I  expect  by  now  they've  been  shot." 

Sara  Lee  ate  very  little  breakfast  that  morning. 
All  through  England  it  was  confidently  believed  that 
spies  were  shot  on  discovery,  a  theory  that  has  been 
persistent  —  and  false,  save  at  the  battle  line  —  since 
the  beginning  of  the  war.  And  Henri's  plan  assumed 
new  proportions.  Suppose  she  made  her  attempt  and 
failed  ?  Suppose  they  took  her  for  a  spy,  and  that  to 
morrow's  sun  found  her  facing  a  firing  squad?  Not, 
indeed,  that  she  had  ever  heard  of  a  firing  squad,  as 
such.  But  she  had  seen  spies  shot  in  the  movies. 
They  invariably  stood  in  front  of  a  brick  wall,  writh 
the  hero  in  the  center. 

So  she  absent-mindedly  ate  her  kippered  herring, 
which  had  been  strongly  recommended  by  the  waiter, 
and  tried  to  think  of  what  a  spy  would  do,  so  she  might 
avoid  any  suspicious  movements.  It  struck  her,  too, 
that  war  seemed  to  have  made  the  people  on  that  side 
of  the  ocean  extremely  ready  with  weapons.  They 
would  be  quite  likely  to  shoot  first  and  ask  questions 
afterwards  —  which  would  be  too  late  to  be  helpful. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      73 

She  remembered  Henri,  for  instance,  and  the  way, 
without  a  word,  he  had  shot  the  donkey. 

That  day  she  wrote  Harvey  a  letter. 

"Dearest:"  it  began;  "I  think  I  am  to  leave  for 
France  to-night.  Things  seem  to  be  moving  nicely, 
and  I  am  being  helped  by  the  Belgian  Relief  Commis 
sion.  It  is  composed  of  Belgians  and  is  at  the  Savoy 
Hotel." 

Here  she  stopped  and  cried  a  little.  What  if  she 
should  never  see  Harvey  again  —  never  have  his 
sturdy  arms  about  her?  Harvey  gained  by  distance. 
She  remembered  only  his  unfailing  kindness  and 
strength  and  his  love  for  her.  He  seemed,  here  at  the 
edge  of  the  whirlpool,  a  sort  of  eddy  of  peace  and  quiet. 
Even  then  she  had  no  thought  of  going  back  until  her 
work  was  done,  but  she  did  an  unusual  thing  for  her, 
unused  to  demonstration  of  any  sort.  She  kissed  his 
ring. 

Followed  directions  about  sending  the  money  from 
the  church  society,  a  description  of  Morley's  and  Traf 
algar  Square,  an  account  of  tea  at  the  Travers',  and 
of  the  little  donkey  —  without  mention,  however,  of 
Henri.  She  felt  that  Harvey  would  not  understand 
Henri. 

But  at  the  end  came  the  passage  which  poor  Harvey 
read  and  re-read  when  the  letter  came,  and  alternately 
ground  his  teeth  over  and  kissed. 

"  I  do  love  you,  Harvey  dear.  And  I  am  coming 
back  to  you.  I  have  felt  that  I  had  to  do  what  I  am 


74      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

doing,  but  I  am  coming  back.  That's  a  promise.  Un 
less,  of  course,  I  should  take  sick,  or  something  like 
that,  which  isn't  likely.'' 

There  was  a  long  pause  in  the  writing  here,  but  Har 
vey  could  not  know  that. 

"  I  shall  wear  your  ring  always ;  and  always,  Har 
vey,  it  will  mean  to  me  that  I  belong  to  you.  With 
dearest  love. 

"  SARA  LEE." 

Then  she  added  a  postscript,  of  course. 

"  The  War  Office  is  not  letting  people  cross  to 
Calais  just  now.  But  I  am  going  to  do  it  anyhow. 
It  is  perfectly  simple.  And  when  I  get  over  I  shall 
write  and  tell  you  how. 

"  S.  L." 

It  was  the  next  day  that  an  indignant  official  in  the 
censor's  office  read  that  postscript,  and  rose  in  his 
wrath  and  sent  a  third  Undersomething-or-other  to 
look  up  Sara  Lee  at  Morley's.  But  by  this  time  she 
was  embarked  on  the  big  adventure;  and  by  the  time 
a  cable  reached  Calais  there  was  no  trace  of  Sara  Lee. 

During  the  afternoon  she  called  up  Mr.  Travers  at 
his  office,  and  rather  gathered  that  he  did  not  care  to 
use  the  telephone  during  business  hours. 

"  I  just  wanted  to  tell  you  that  you  need  not  bother 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      75 

about  me  any  more,"  she  said.  "  I  am  being  sent  over, 
and  I  think  everything  is  all  right." 

He  was  greatly  relieved.  Mrs.  Travers  had  not 
fully  indorsed  his  encomiums  of  the  girl.  She  had  felt 
that  no  really  nice  girl  would  travel  so  far  on  so  pre 
carious  an  errand,  particularly  when  she  was  alone. 
And  how  could  one  tell,  coming  from  America,  how 
her  sympathies  really  lay?  She  might  be  of  German 
parentage  —  the  very  worst  sort,  because  they  spoke 
American.  It  was  easy  enough  to  change  a  name. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Travers  felt  a  trifle  low  in  his 
mind  when  he  hung  up  the  receiver.  He  said  twice  to 
himself :  "  Twenty  pounds ! "  And  at  last  he  put 
four  sovereigns  in  an  envelope  and  sent  them  to  her 
anonymously  by  messenger.  Sara  Lee  guessed  whence 
they  came,  but  she  respected  the  manner  of  the  gift  and 
did  not  thank  him.  It  was  almost  the  first  gold  money 
she  had  ever  seen. 

She  was  very  carefully  searched  at  the  railway  sta 
tion  that  night  and  found  that  her  American  Red  Cross 
button,  which  had  come  with  her  dollar  subscription 
to  the  association,  made  the  matron  inspector  rather 
kindly  inclined.  Nevertheless,  she  took  off  Sara  Lee's 
shoes,  and  ran  over  the  lining  of  her  coat,  and  quite 
ruined  the  maid's  packing  of  the  suitcase. 

"  You  are  going  to  Boulogne  ?  "  asked  the  matron 
inspector. 

Sara  Lee  did  not  like  to  lie. 

"Wherever  the  boat  takes  me,"  she  said  with  a 
smile. 


76      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

The  matron  smiled  too. 

"  I  shouldn't  be  nervous,  miss,"  she  said.  "  It's  a 
chance,  of  course,  but  they  have  not  done  much  damage 
yet." 

It  was  after  midnight  then,  and  a  cold  fog  made  the 
station  a  gloomy  thing  of  blurred  yellow  lights  and 
raw  chill.  A  few  people  moved  about,  mostly  officers 
in  uniform.  Half  a  dozen  men  in  civilian  clothes 
eyed  her  as  she  passed  through  the  gates;  Scotland 
Yard,  but  she  did  not  know.  And  once  she  thought 
she  saw  Henri,  but  he  walked  away  into  the  shadows 
and  disappeared.  The  train,  looking  as  absurdly  small 
and  light  as  all  English  trains  do,  was  waiting  out  in 
the  shed.  There  were  no  porters,  and  Sara  Lee  car 
ried  her  own  bag. 

She  felt  quite  sure  she  had  been  mistaken  about 
Henri,  for  of  course  he  would  have  come  and  carried 
it  for  her. 

The  train  was  cold  and  quiet.  When  it  finally 
moved  out  it  was  under  way  before  she  knew  that  it 
was  going.  And  then  suddenly  Sara  Lee's  heart  began 
to  pound  hard. 

It  was  a  very  cold  and  shivering  Sara  Lee  who  curled 
up,  alone  in  her  compartment,  and  stared  hard  at  Har 
vey's  ring  to  keep  her  courage  up.  But  a  curious  thing 
had  happened.  Harvey  gave  her  no  moral  support. 
He  brought  her  only  disapproval.  She  found  herself 
remembering  none  of  the  loving  things  he  had  said  to 
her,  but  only  the  bitter  ones. 

Perhaps  it  was  the  best  thing  for  her,  after  all.     For 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      77 

a  sort  of  dogged  determination  to  go  through  with  it 
all,  at  any  cost,  braced  her  to  her  final  effort. 

So  far  it  had  all  been  busy  enough,  but  not  comfort 
able.  She  was  cold,  and  she  had  eaten  almost  nothing 
all  day.  As  the  Hours  went  on  and  the  train  slid 
through  the  darkness  she  realized  that  she  was  rather 
faint.  The  steam  pipes,  only  warm  at  the  start,  were 
entirely  cold  by  one  o'clock,  and  by  two  Sara  Lee  was 
sitting  on  her  feet,  with  a  heavy  coat  wrapped  about 
her  knees. 

The  train  moved  quietly,  as  do  all  English  trains, 
with  no  jars  and  little  sound.  There  were  few  lights 
outside,  for  the  towns  of  Eastern  England  were  dark 
ened,  like  London,  against  air  attacks.  So  when  she 
looked  at  the  window  she  saw  only  her  own  reflection, 
white  and  wide-eyed,  above  Aunt  Harriet's  fur  neck 
piece. 

In  the  next  compartment  an  officer  was  snoring,  but 
she  did  not  close  her  eyes.  Perhaps,  for  that  last  hour, 
some  of  the  glow  that  had  brought  her  so  far  failed 
her.  She  was  not  able  to  think  beyond  Folkestone, 
save  occasionally,  and  that  with  a  feeling  that  it  should 
not  be  made  so  difficult  to  do  a  kind  and  helpful  thing. 

At  a  quarter  before  three  the  train  eased  down.  In 
the  same  proportion  Sara  Lee's  pulse  went  up.  A 
long  period  of  crawling  along,  a  stop  or  two,  but  no 
resultant  opening  of  the  doors;  and  at  last,  in  a  cold 
rain  and  a  howling  wind  from  the  channel,  the  little 
seaport  city. 

More  officers  than  she  had  suspected,  a  few  women, 


78      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

got  out.  The  latter  Sara  Lee's  experience  on  the 
steamer  enabled  her  to  place ;  buyers  mostly,  and 
Americans,  on  their  way  to  Paris,  blockade  or  no 
blockade,  because  the  American  woman  must  be  well 
and  smartly  gowned  and  hatted.  A  man  with  a 
mourning:  band  on  his  sleeve  carried  a  wailing  child. 

The  ouicers  lighted  cigarettes.  The  civilians 
formed  a  line  on  the  jetty  under  the  roof  of  the  shed, 
and  waited,  passports  in  hand,  before  a  door  that 
gleamed  with  yellow  light.  Faces  looked  pale  and 
anxious.  The  blockade  was  on,  and  Germany  had  said 
that  no  ships  would  cross  that  night. 

As  if  defiantly  the  Boulogne  boat,  near  at  hand,  was 
ablaze,  on  the  shore  side  at  least,  with  lights.  Stew 
ards  came  and  went.  Beyond  it  lay  the  harbor,  dark 
and  mysterious  save  where,  from  somewhere  across,  a 
flashlight  made  a  brave  effort  to  pierce  the  fog. 

One  of  the  buyers  ahead  of  Sara  Lee  seemed  ex 
hilarated  by  the  danger  ahead. 

"  They'll  never  get  us,"  she  said.  "  Look  at  that 
fog!" 

"  It's  lifting,  dearie,"  answered  a  weary  voice  be 
hind  her.  "  The  wind  is  carrying  it  away." 

When  Sara  Lee's  turn  came  she  was  ready.  A 
group  of  men  in  civilian  clothes,  seated  about  a  long 
table,  looked  her  over  carefully.  Her  passports 
moved  deliberately  from  hand  to  hand.  A  long  busi 
ness,  and  the  baby  wailing  harder  than  ever.  But  the 
office  was  at  least  warm.  Some  of  her  failing  courage 
came  back  as  she  moved,  following  her  papers,  round 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      79 

the  table.  They  were  given  back  to  her  at  last,  and  she 
went  out.  She  had  passed  the  first  ordeal. 

Suitcase  in  hand  she  wandered  down  the  stone  jetty. 
The  Boulogne  boat  she  passed,  and  kept  on.  At  the 
very  end,  dark  and  sinister,  lay  another  boat.  It  had 
no  lights.  The  tide  was  in,  and  its  deck  lay  almost 
flush  with  the  pier.  Sara  Lee  walked  on  toward  it 
until  a  voice  spoke  to  her  out  of  the  darkness  and  near 
at  hand. 

"  Your  boat  is  back  there,  madam." 

"  I  know.     Thank  you.     I  am  just  walking  about." 

The  petty  officer  —  he  was  a  petty  officer,  though 
Sara  Lee  had  never  heard  the  term  —  was  inclined  to 
be  suspicious.  Under  excuse  of  lighting  his  pipe  he 
struck  a  match,  and  Sara  Lee's  young  figure  stood  out 
in  full  relief.  His  suspicions  died  away  with  the  flare. 

"  Bad  night,  miss,"  he  offered. 

"  Very,"  said  Sara  Lee,  and  turned  back  again. 

This  time,  bewildered  and  uneasy,  she  certainly  saw 
Henri.  But  he  ignored  her.  He  was  alone,  and 
smoking  one  of  his  interminable  cigarettes.  He  had 
not  said  he  was  crossing,  and  why  had  he  not  spoken 
to  her?  He  wandered  past  down  the  pier,  and  she  lost 
him  in  the  shadows.  When  he  came  back  he  paused 
near  her,  and  at  last  saluted  and  spoke. 

"Pardon"  he  said.  "If  you  will  stand  back  here 
you  will  find  less  wind." 

"Thank  you." 

He  carried  her  suitcase  back,  and  stooping  over  to 
place  it  at  her  feet  he  said :  "  I  shall  send  him  on 


8o      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

board  with  a  message  to  the  captain.  When  I  come 
back  try  again." 

He  left  her  at  once.  The  passengers  for  Boulogne 
were  embarking  now.  A  silent  lot,  they  disappeared 
into  the  warmth  and  brightness  of  the  little  boat  and 
were  lost.  No  one  paid  any  attention  to  Sara  Lee 
standing  in  the  shadows. 

Soon  Henri  came  back.  He  walked  briskly  and 
touched  his  cap  as  he  passed.  He  went  aboard  the 
Boulogne  steamer,  and  without  a  backward  glance  dis 
appeared. 

Sara  Lee  watched  him  out  of  sight,  in  a  very  real 
panic.  He  had  been  something  real  and  tangible  in 
that  shadowy  place  —  something  familiar  in  an  unfa 
miliar  world.  But  he  was  gone.  She  threw  up  her. 
head. 

So  once  more  Sara  Lee  picked  up  her  suitcase  and 
went  down  the  pier.  Now  she  was  unchallenged. 
What  lurking  figure  might  be  on  the  dark  deck  of  the 
Calais  boat  she  could  not  tell.  That  was  the  chance 
she  was  to  take.  The  gangway  was  still  out,  and  as 
quietly  as  possible  she  went  aboard.  The  Boulogne 
boat  had  suddenly  gone  dark,  and  she  heard  the  churn 
ing  of  the  screw.  With  the  extinction  of  the  lights  on 
the  other  boat  came  at  last  deeper  night  to  her  aid. 
A  few  steps,  a  stumble,  a  gasp  —  and  she  was  on  board 
the  forbidden  ship. 

She  turned  forward,  according  to  her  instructions, 
where  the  overhead  deck  made  below  an  even  deeper 
shadow.  Henri  had  said  that  there  were  cabins  there, 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      81 

and  that  the  chance  was  of  finding  an  unlocked  one. 
If  they  were  all  locked  she  would  be  discovered  at 
dawn,  and  arrested.  And  Sara  Lee  was  not  a  war 
correspondent.  She  was  not  accustomed  to  arrest. 
Indeed  she  had  a  deep  conviction  that  arrest  in  her  case 
would  mean  death.  False,  of  course,  but  surely  it 
shows  her  courage. 

As  she  stood  there,  breathless  and  listening,  the 
Boulogne  boat  moved  out.  She  heard  the  wash 
against  the  jetty,  felt  the  rolling  of  its  waves.  But 
being  on  the  landward  side  she  could  not  see  the  faint 
gleam  of  a  cigarette  that  marked  Henri's  anxious  fig 
ure  at  the  rail.  So  long  as  the  black  hulk  of  the  Calais 
boat  was  visible,  and  long  after  indeed,  Henri  stood 
there,  outwardly  calm  but  actually  shaken  by  many 
fears.  She  had  looked  so  small  and  young;  and  who 
could  know  what  deviltry  lurked  abroad  that  night? 

He  had  not  gone  with  her  because  it  was  necessary 
that  he  be  in  Boulogne  the  next  morning.  And  also, 
the  very  chance  of  getting  her  across  lay  in  her  being 
alone  and  unobserved. 

So  he  stood  by  the  rail  and  looked  back  and  said  a 
wordless  little  prayer  that  if  there  was  trouble  it  come 
to  his  boat  and  not  to  the  other.  Which  might  very 
considerably  have  disturbed  the  buyers  had  they  known 
of  it  and  believed  in  prayer. 

Sara  Lee  stood  in  the  shadows  and  listened..  There 
were  voices  overhead,  from  the  bridge.  A  door 
opened  onto  the  deck  and  threw  out  a  ray  of  light. 
Some  one  came  out  and  went  on  shore,  walking  with 


82      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

brisk  ringing  steps.  And  then  at  last  she  put  down 
her  bag  and  tried  door  after  door,  without  result. 

The  man  who  had  gone  ashore  called  another.  The 
gangway  was  drawn  in.  The  engines  began  to  vibrate 
underfoot.  Sara  Lee,  breathless  and  terrified,  stood 
close  to  a  cabin  door  and  remained  immovable.  At 
one  moment  it  seemed  as  if  a  seaman  was  coming  for 
ward  to  where  she  stood.  But  he  did  not  come. 

The  Calais  boat  was  waiting  until  the  other  steamer 
had  got  well  out  of  the  harbor.  The  fog  had  lifted, 
and  the  searchlight  was  moving  over  the  surface.  It 
played  round  the  channel  steamer  without  touching  it. 
But  none  of  this  was  visible  to  Sara  Lee. 

At  last  the  lights  of  the  quay  began  to  recede.  The 
little  boat  rocked  slightly  in  its  own  waves  as  it  edged 
away.  It  moved  slowly  through  the  shipping  and  out 
until,  catching  the  swell  of  the  channel,  it  shot  ahead 
at  top  speed. 

For  an  hour  Sara  Lee  stood  there.  The  channel 
wind  caught  her  and  tore  at  her  skirts  until  she  was 
almost  frozen.  And  finally,  in  sheer  desperation,  she 
worked  her  way  round  to  the  other  side.  She  saw  no 
one.  Save  for  the  beating  heart  of  the  engine  below 
it  might  have  been  a  dead  ship. 

On  the  other  side  she  found  an  open  door  and  stum 
bled  into  the  tiny  dark  deck  cabin,  as  chilled  and 
frightened  a  philanthropist  as  had  ever  crossed  that  old 
and  tricky  and  soured  bit  of  seaway.  And  there,  to  be 
frank,  she  forgot  her  fright  in  as  bitter  a  tribute  of 
seasickness  as  even  the  channel  has  ever  exacted. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      83 

She  had  locked  herself  in,  and  she  fell  at  last  into 
an  exhausted  sleep.  When  she  wakened  and  peered 
out  through  the  tiny  window  it  was  gray  winter  dawn. 
The  boat  was  quiet,  and  before  her  lay  the  quay  of 
Calais  and  the  Gare  Maritime.  A  gangway  was  out 
and  a  hurried  survey  showed  no  one  in  sight. 

Sara  Lee  picked  up  her  suitcase  and  opened  the  door. 
The  fresh  morning  air  revived  her,  but  nevertheless 
it  was  an  extremely  pale  young  woman  who,  obeying 
Henri's  instructions,  went  ashore  that  morning  in  the 
gray  dawn  unseen,  undisturbed  and  unqestioned. 
But  from  the  moment  she  appeared  on  the  gangway 
until  the  double  glass  doors  of  the  Gare  Maritime 
closed  behind  her  this  apparently  calm  young  woman 
did  not  breathe  at  all.  She  arrived,  indeed,  with  lungs 
fairly  collapsed  and  her  heart  entirely  unreliable. 

A  woman  clerk  was  asleep  at  a  desk.  Sara  Lee 
roused  her  to  half  wakefulness,  no  interest  and  ex 
tremely  poor  English.  A  drowsy  porter  led  her  up  a 
staircase  and  down  an  endless  corridor.  Then  at  last 
he  was  gone,  and  Sara  Lee  turned  the  key  in  her  door 
and  burst  into  tears. 


VII 


up  to  this  point  Sara  Lee's  mind  had  come  to 
rest  at  Calais.  She  must  get  there;  after  that 
the  other  things  would  need  to  be  worried  over. 
Henri  had  already  in  their  short  acquaintance  installed 
himself  as  the  central  figure  of  this  strange  and  amaz 
ing  interlude  —  not  as  a  good-looking  young  soldier 
surprisingly  fertile  in  expedients,  but  as  a  sort  of  agent 
of  providence,  by  whom  and  through  whom  things 
were  done. 

And  Henri  had  said  she  was  to  go  to  the  Gare  Mari 
time  at  Calais  and  make  herself  comfortable  —  if  she 
got  there.  After  that  things  would  be  arranged. 

Sara  Lee  therefore  took  a  hot  bath,  though  hardly 
a  satisfactory  one,  for  there  was  no  soap  and  she  had 
brought  none.  She  learned  later  on  to  carry  soap  with 
her  everywhere.  So  she  soaked  the  chill  out  of  her 
slim  body  and  then  dressed.  The  room  was  cold,  but 
a  great  exultation  kept  her  warm.  She  had  run  the 
blockade,  she  had  escaped  the  War  Office  —  which,  by 
the  way,  was  looking  her  up  almost  violently  by  that 
time,  via  the  censor.  It  had  found  the  trunk  she  left 
at  Morley's,  and  cross-questioned  the  maid  into  hys 
teria  —  and  here  she  was,  safe  in  France,  the  harbor 
of  Calais  before  her,  and  here  and  there  strange- 
looking  war  craft  taking  on  coal.  Destroyers,  she 
learned  later.  Her  ignorance  was  rather  appalling  at 
first. 

8s 


86      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

It  was  all  unreal  —  the  room  with  its  cold  steam 
pipes,  the  heavy  window  hangings,  the  very  words  on 
the  hot  and  cold  taps  in  the  bathroom.  A  great  vessel 
moved  into  the  harbor.  As  it  turned  she  saw  its 
name  printed  on  its  side  in  huge  letters,  and  the  flag, 
also  painted,  of  a  neutral  country  —  a  hoped-for  pro 
tection  against  German  submarines.  It  brought  home 
to  her,  rather,  the  thing  she  had  escaped. 

After  a  time  she  thought  of  food,  but  rather  hope 
lessly.  Her  attempts  to  get  savon  from  a  stupid  boy 
had  produced  nothing  more  useful  than  a  flow  of  un 
intelligible  French  and  no  soap  whatever.  She  tried 
a  pantomime  of  washing  her  hands,  but  to  the  boy 
she  had  appeared  to  be  merely  wringing  them.  And, 
as  a  great  many  females  were  wringing  their  hands  in 
France  those  days,  he  had  gone  away,  rather  sorry  for 
her. 

When  hunger  drove  her  to  the  bell  again  he  came 
back  and  found  her  with  her  little  phrase  book  in  her 
hands,  feverishly  turning  the  pages.  She  could  find 
plenty  of  sentences  such  as  "  Gar  son,  vous  avez  r  en- 
verse  dn  vin  sur  ma  robe"  but  not  an  egg  lifted  its 
shining  pate  above  the  pages.  Not  cereal.  Not  fruit. 
Not  even  the  word  breakfast. 

Long,  long  afterward  Sara  Lee  found  a  quite  de 
lightful  breakfast  hidden  between  two  pages  that  were 
stuck  together.  But  it  was  then  far  too  late. 

"  Donnez-moi,"  began  Sara  Lee,  and  turned  the 
pages  rapidly,  "  this ;  do  you  see  ?  "  She  had  found 
roast  beef. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE       87 

The  boy  observed  stolidly,  in  French,  that  it  was 
not  ready  until  noon.  She  was  able  to  make  out,  from 
his  failing  to  depart,  that  there  was  no  roast  beef. 

"  Good  gracious !  "  she  said,  ravenous  and  exas 
perated.  "  Go  and  get  me  some  bread  and  coffee,  any 
how."  She  repeated  it,  slightly  louder. 

That  was  the  tableau  that  Henri  found  when,  after 
a  custom  that  may  be  war  or  may  be  Continental,  he 
had  inquired  the  number  of  her  room  and  made  his 
way  there. 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes  as  he  bowed 
before  her  —  and  a  vast  relief  too. 

"  So  you  are  here !  "  he  said  in  a  tone  of  satisfaction. 

He  had  put  in  an  extremely  bad  night,  even  for  him, 
by  whom  nights  were  seldom  wasted  in  a  bed.  While 
he  was  with  her  something  of  her  poise  had  communi 
cated  itself  to  him.  He  had  felt  the  confidence,  in  men 
and  affairs,  that  American  girls  are  given  as  a  birth 
right.  And  her  desire  for  service  he  had  understood 
as  a  year  or  two  ago  he  could  not  have  understood. 
But  he  had  stood  by  the  rail  staring  north,  and  cursing 
himself  for  having  placed  her  in  danger  during  the 
entire  crossing. 

There  was  nothing  about  him  that  morning,  how 
ever,  to  show  his  bad  hours.  He  was  debonnaire  and 
smiling. 

"  I  am  famishing,"  said  Sara  Lee.  "  And  there  are 
no  eggs  in  this  book  —  none  whatever." 

"  Eggs !     You  wish  eggs  ?  " 


88      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  I  just  want  food.  Almost  anything  will  do.  I 
asked  for  eggs  because  they  can  come  quickly." 

Henri  turned  to  the  boy  and  sent  him  off  with  a 
rapid  order.  Then :  "  May  I  come  in?  "  he  said. 

Sara  Lee  cast  an  uneasy  glance  over  the  room.  It 
\vas  extremely  tidy,  and  unmistakably  it  was  a  bed- 
room.  But  though  her  color  rose  she  asked  him  in. 
After  all,  what  did  it  matter?  To  have  refused  would 
have  looked  priggish,  she  said  to  herself.  And  as  a 
matter  of  fact  one  of  the  early  lessons  she  learned  in 
France  was  learned  that  morning  —  that  though  con 
vention  had  had  to  go,  like  many  other  things  in  the 
war,  men  who  were  gentlemen  ignored  its  passing. 

Henri  came  in  and  stood  by  the  center  table. 

"  Now,  please  tell  me,"  he  said.  "  I  have  been  most 
uneasy.  On  the  quay  last  night  you  looked  —  fright 
ened." 

"-I  was  awfully  frightened.  Nothing  happened.  I 
even  slept." 

'  You  were  very  brave." 

"  I  was  very  seasick." 

"  I  am  sorry." 

Henri  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  room. 

"  But,"  said  Sara  Lee  slowly,  "I  —  I  —  can't  be  on 
your  hands,  you  know.  You  must  have  many  things 
to  do.  If  you  are  going  to  have  to  order  my  meals 
and  all  that,  I'm  going  to  be  a  dreadful  burden." 

"  But  you  will  learn  very  quickly." 

"  I'm  stupid  about  languages." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      89 

Henri  dismissed  that  with  a  gesture.  She  could  not, 
he  felt,  be  stupid  about  anything.  He  went  to  the 
window  and  looked  out.  The  destroyers  were  still 
coaling,  and  a  small  cargo  was  being  taken  off  the  boat 
at  the  quay.  The  rain  was  over,  and  in  the  early 
sunlight  an  officer  in  blue  tunic,  red  breeches  and  black 
cavalry  boots  was  taking  the  air,  his  head  bent  over 
his  chest.  Not  a  detail  of  the  scene  escaped  him. 

"  I  have  agreed  to  find  the  right  place  for  you,"  he 

said  thoughtfully.  "  There  is  one,  but  I  think " 

He  hesitated.  "  I  do  not  wish  to  place  you  again  in 
danger." 

*'  You  mean  that  it  is  near  the  Front  ?  " 

"  Very  near,  mademoiselle." 

"  But  I  should  be  rather  near,  to  be  useful." 

"Perhaps,  for  your  work.  But  what  of  you? 
These  brutes  —  they  shell  far  and  wide.  One  can 
never  be  sure." 

He  paused  and  surveyed  her  whimsically. 

"  Who  allowed  you  to  come,  alone,  like  this  ?  "  he 
demanded.  "  Is  there  no  one  who  objected?  " 

Sara  Lee  glanced  down  at  her  ring. 

"  The  man  I  am  going  to  marry.  He  is  very 
angry." 

Henri  looked  at  her,  arid  followed  her  eyes  to  Har 
vey's  ring.  He  said  nothing,  however,  but  he  went 
over  and  gave  the  bell  cord  a  violent  jerk. 

"  You  must  have  food  quickly,"  he  said  in  a  rather 
flat  voice.  "  You  are  looking  tired  and  pale." 

A   sense  of  unreality  was  growing  on  Sara  Lee. 


90      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

That  she  should  be  alone  in  France  with  a  man  she  had 
never  seen  three  days  before;  that  she  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  that  man;  that,  for  the  present  at 
least,  she  was  utterly  and  absolutely  dependent  on 
him,  even  for  the  food  she  ate  —  it  was  all  of  a  piece 
with  the  night's  voyage  and  the  little  room  at  the 
Savoy.  And  it  was  none  of  it  real. 

When  the  breakfast  tray  came  Henri  was  again  at 
the  window  and  silent.  And  Sara  Lee  saw  that  it  was 
laid  for  two.  She  was  a  little  startled,  but  the  busi 
nesslike  way  in  which  the  young  officer  drew  up  two 
chairs  and  held  one  out  for  her  made  protest  seem 
absurd.  And  the  flat-faced  boy,  who  waited,  looked 
unshocked  and  uninterested. 

It  was  not  until  she  had  had  some  coffee  that  Henri 
followed  up  his  line  of  thought. 

"  So  —  the  fiance  did  not  approve?  It  is  not  diffi 
cult  to  understand.  There  is  always  danger,  for  there 
are  German  aeroplanes  even  in  remote  places.  And 
you  are  very  young.  You  still  wish  to  establish  your 
self,  mademoiselle  ?" 

"  Of  course!" 

"  Would  it  be  a  comfort  to  cable  your  safe  arrival 
in  France  to  the  fiance  ?  "  When  he  saw  her  face  he 
smiled.  And  if  it  was  a  rather  heroic  smile  it  was 
none  the  less  friendly.  "  I  see.  What  shall  I  say  ? 
Or  will  you  write  it?  " 

So  Sara  Lee,  vastly  cheered  by  two  cups  of  coffee, 
an  egg,  and  a  very  considerable  portion  of  bread  and 
butter,  wrote  her  cable.  It  was  to  be  brief,  for  cables 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      91 

cost  money.  It  said,  "  Safe.  Well.  Love."  And 
Henri,  who  seemed  to  have  strange  and  ominous  pow 
ers,  sent  it  almost  immediately.  Total  cost,  as  re 
ported  to  Sara  Lee,  two  francs.  He  took  the  money 
she  offered  him  gravely. 

"  We  shall  cable  quite  often,"  he  said.  "  He  will 
be  anxious.  And  I  think  he  has  a  right  to  know/* 

The  "  we  "  was  entirely  unconscious. 

"  And  now,"  he  said,  when  he  had  gravely  allowed 
Sara  Lee  to  pay  her  half  of  the  breakfast,  "  we  must 
arrange  to  get  you  out  of  Calais.  And  that,  made 
moiselle,  may  take  time." 

It  took  time.  Sara  Lee,  growing  accustomed  now 
to  little  rooms  entirely  filled  with  men  and  typewriters, 
went  from  one  office  to  another,  walking  along  the  nar 
row  pavements  with  Henri,  through  streets  filled  with 
soldiers.  Once  they  drew  aside  to  let  pass  a  proces 
sion  of  Belgian  refugees,  those  who  had  held  to  their 
village  homes  until  bombardment  had  destroyed  them 
—  stout  peasant  women  in  short  skirts  and  with  huge 
bundles,  old  men,  a  few  young  ones,  many  children. 
The  terror  of  the  early  flight  was  not  theirs,  but  there 
was  in  all  of  them  a  sort  of  sodden  hopelessness  that 
cut  Sara  Lee  to  the  heart.  In  an  irregular  column  they 
walked  along,  staring  ahead  but  seeing  nothing.  Even 
the  children  looked  old  and  tired. 

Sara  Lee's  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  My  people,"  said  Henri.  "  Simple  country  folk, 
and  going  to  England,  where  they  will  grieve  for  the 
things  that  are  gone  —  their  fields  and  their  sons. 


92      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

The  old  ones  will  die,  quickly,  of  homesickness.  It  is 
difficult  to  transplant  an  old  tree.'' 

The  final  formalities  seemed  to  offer  certain  difficul 
ties.  Henri,  who  liked  to  do  things  quickly  and  like 
a  prince,  flushed  with  irritation.  He  drew  himself  up 
rather  haughtily  in  reply  to  one  question,  and  glanced 
uneasily  at  the  girl.  But  it  was  all  as  intelligible  as 
Sanskrit  to  her. 

It  was  only  after  a  whispered  sentence  to  the  man  at 
the  head  of  the  table  that  the  paper  was  finally  signed. 

As  they  went  down  to  the  street  together  Sara  Lee 
made  a  little  protest. 

"  But  I  simply  must  not  take  all  your  time,"  she 
said,  looking  up  anxiously.  "  I  begin  to  realize  how 
foolhardy  the  whole  thing  is.  I  meant  well,  but  —  it 
is  you  who  are  doing  everything;  not  I." 

"  I  shall  not  make  the  soup,  mademoiselle/'  he  re 
plied  gravely. 


VIII 

THERE  were  more  things  to  do.  Sara  Lee's 
money  must  be  exchanged  at  a  bank  for  French 
gold.  She  had  three  hundred  dollars,  and  it  had  been 
given  her  in  a  tiny  brown  canvas  bag.  And  then  there 
was  the  matter  of  going  from  Calais  toward  the  Front. 
She  had  expected  to  find  a  train,  but  there  were  no 
trains.  All  cars  were  being  used  for  troops.  She 
stared  at  Henri  in  blank  dismay. 

"  No  trains !  "  she  said  blankly.  "  Would  an  auto 
mobile  be  very  expensive  ?  " 

"  They  are  all  under  government  control,  mademoi 
selle.  Even  the  petrol." 

She  stopped  in  the  street. 

"  Then  I  shall  have  to  go  back." 

Henri  laughed  boyishly. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "  I  have  been  requested 
to  take  you  to  a  place  where  you  may  render  us  the 
service  we  so  badly  need.  For  the  present  that  is  my 
duty,  and  nothing  else.  So  if  you  will  accept  the  offer 
of  my  car,  which  is  a  shameful  one  but  travels  well, 
we  can  continue  our  journey." 

Long,  long  afterward,  Sara  Lee  found  a  snapshot 
of  Henri's  car,  taken  by  a  light-hearted  British  officer. 
Found  it  and  sat  for  a  long  time  with  it  in  her  hand, 
thinking  and  remembering  that  first  day  she  saw  it, 
in  the  sun  at  Calais.  A  long  low  car  it  was,  once 
green,  but  now  roughly  painted  gray.  But  it  was  not 

93 


94      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

the  crude  painting,  significant  as  it  was,  that  brought 
so  close  the  thing  she  was  going  to.  It  was  that  the 
car  was  but  a  shell  of  a  car.  The  mud  guards  were 
crumpled  up  against  the  side.  Body  and  hood  were 
pitted  with  shrapnel.  A  door  had  been  shot  away, 
and  the  wind  shield  was  but  a  frame  set  round  with 
broken  glass.  Even  the  soldier-chauffeur  wore  a  patch 
over  one  eye,  and  his  uniform  was  ragged. 

"  Not  a  beautiful  car,  mademoiselle,  as  I  warned 
yon !  But  a  fast  one !  " 

Henri  was  having  a  double  enjoyment.  He  was 
watching  Sara  Lee's  face  and  his  chauffeur's  remain 
ing  eye. 

"But  fast;  eh,  Jean?"  he  said  to  the  chauffeur. 
The  man  nodded  and  said  something  in  French.  It 
was  probably  the  thing  Henri  had  hoped  for,  and  he 
threw  back  his  head  and  laughed. 

"  Jean  is  reminding  me,"  he  said  gayly,  "  that  it  is 
forbidden  to  officers  to  take  a  lady  along  the  road  that 
we  shall  travel."  But  when  he  saw  how  Sara  Lee 
flushed  he  turned  to  the  man. 

"  Mademoiselle  has  come  from  America  to  help  us, 
Jean,"  he  said  quietly.  "  And  now  for  Dunkirk." 

The  road  from  Dunkirk  to  Calais  was  well  guarded 
in  those  days.  From  Nieuport  for  some  miles  inland 
only  the  shattered  remnant  of  the  Belgian  Army  held 
the  line.  For  the  cry  "  On  to  Paris ! "  the  Germans 
had  substituted  "  On  to  Calais !  " 

So,  on  French  soil  at  least,  the  road  was  well 
guarded.  A  few  miles  in  the  battered  car,  then  a  slow- 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      95 

ing  up,  a  showing  of  passports,  the  clatter  of  a  great 
chain  as  it  dropped  to  the  road,  a  lowering  of  leveled 
rifles,  and  a  salute  from  the  officer  —  that  was  the 
method  by  which  they  advanced. 

Henri  sat  with  the  driver  and  talked  in  a  low  tone. 
Sometimes  he  sat  quiet,  looking  ahead.  He  seemed, 
somehow,  older,  more  careworn.  His  boyishness  had 
gone.  Now  and  then  he  turned  to  ask  if  she  was 
comfortable,  but  in  the  intervals  she  felt  that  he  had 
entirely  forgotten  her.  Once,  at  something  Jean  said, 
he  got  out  a  pocket  map  and  went  over  it  carefully. 
It  was  a  long  time  after  that  before  he  turned  to  see 
if  she  was  all  right. 

Sara  Lee  sat  forward  and  watched  everything.  She 
saw  little  evidence  of  war,  beyond  the  occasional  sen 
tries  and  chains.  Women  were  walking  along  the 
roads.  Children  stopped  and  pointed,  smiling,  at  the 
battered  car.  One  very  small  boy  saluted,  and  Henri 
as  gravely  returned  the  salute. 

Some  time  after  that  he  turned  to  her. 

"  I  find  that  I  shall  have  to  leave  you  in  Dunkirk," 
he  said.  "  A  matter  of  a  day  only,  probably.  But  I 
will  see  before  I  go  that  you  are  comfortable." 

"  I  shall  be  quite  all  right,  of  course." 

But  something  had  gone  out  of  the  day  for  her. 

Sara  Lee  learned  one  thing  that  day,  learned  it  as 
some  women  do  learn,  by  the  glance  of  an  eye,  the  tone 
of  a  voice.  The  chauffeur  adored  Henri.  His  one 
unbandaged  eye  stole  moments  from  the  road  to  glance 
at  him.  When  he  spoke,  while  Henri  read  his  map, 


96      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

his  very  voice  betrayed  him.  And  while  she  pondered 
the  thing,  woman- fashion,  they  drew  into  the  square 
of  Dunkirk,  where  the  statue  of  Jean  Bart,  pirate  and 
privateer,  stared  down  at  this  new  procession  of  war 
which  passed  daily  and  nightly  under  his  cold  eyes. 

Jean  and  a  porter  carried  in  her  luggage.  Henri 
and  a  voluble  and  smiling  Frenchwoman  showed  her 
to  her  room.  She  felt  like  an  island  of  silence  in 
a  rapid-rolling  sea  of  French.  The  Frenchwoman 
threw  open  the  door. 

A  great  room  with  high  curtained  windows ;  a  huge 
bed  with  a  faded  gilt  canopy  and  heavy  draperies;  a 
wardrobe  as  vast  as  the  bed ;  and  for  a  toilet  table  an 
enormous  mirror  reaching  to  the  ceiling  and  with  a 
marble  shelf  below  —  that  was  her  room. 

"  I  think  you  will  be  comfortable  here,  mademoi 
selle." 

Sara  Lee,  who  still  clutched  her  small  bag  of  gold, 
shook  her  head. 

"  Comfortable,  yes,"  she  said.  "  But  I  am  afraid 
it  is  very  expensive." 

Henri  named  an  extremely  low  figure  —  an  exact 
fourth,  to  be  accurate,  of  its  real  cost.  A  surprising 
person,  Henri,  with  his  worn  uniform  and  his  capacity 
for  kindly  mendacity.  And  seeing  something  in  the 
Frenchwoman's  face  that  perhaps  he  had  expected,  he 
turned  to  her  almost  fiercely : 

"  You  are  to  understand,  madame,  that  this  lady  has 
been  placed  in  my  care  by  authority  that  will  not  be 
questioned.  She  is  to  have  every  deference." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      97 

That  was  all,  but  was  enough.  And  from  that  time 
on  Sara  Lee  Kennedy,  of  Ohio,  was  called,  in  the  tiny 
box  downstairs  which  constituted  the  office,  "  Made 
moiselle  La  Princesse." 

Henri  did  a  characteristic  and  kindly  thing  for  Sara 
Lee  before  he  left  that  evening  on  one  of  the  many 
mysterious  journeys  that  he  was  to  make  during  the 
time  Sara  Lee  knew  him.  He  came  to  her  door, 
menus  in  hand,  and  painstakingly  ordered  for  her  a 
dinner  for  that  night,  and  the  three  meals  for  the  day 
following. 

He  made  no  suggestion  of  dining  with  her  that  eve 
ning.  Indeed  watching  him  from  her  small  table  Sara 
Lee  decided  that  he  had  put  her  entirely  out  of  his 
mind.  He  did  not  so  much  as  glance  at  her.  Save 
the  cashier  at  her  boxed-in  desk  and  money  drawer, 
she  was  the  only  woman  in  that  room  full  of  officers. 
Quite  certainly  Henri  was  the  only  man  who  did  not 
find  some  excuse  for  glancing  in  her  direction. 

But  finishing  early,  he  paused  by  the  cashier's  desk 
to  pay  for  his  meal,  and  then  he  gave  Sara  Lee  the 
stiffest  and  most  ceremonious  of  bows. 

She  felt  hurt.  Alone  in  her  great  room,  the  cur 
tains  drawn  by  order  of  the  police,  lest  a  ray  of  light 
betray  the  town  to  eyes  in  the  air,  she  went  carefully 
over  the  hours  she  had  spent  with  Henri  that  day, 
looking  for  a  cause  of  offense.  She  must  have  hurt 
him  or  he  would  surely  have  stopped  to  speak  to  her. 

Perhaps  already  he  was  finding  her  a  burden.  She 
flushed  with  shame  when  she  remembered  about  the 


98      THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

meals  he  had  had  to  order  for  her,  and  she  sat  up  in 
her  great  bed  until  late,  studying  by  candlelight  such 
phrases  as : 

"  II  y  a  une  erreur  dans  la  note,"  and  "  Gargon,  quels 
fruits  avez-vous?  " 

She  tried  to  write  to  Harvey  that  night,  but  she  gave 
it  up  at  last.  There  was  too  much  he  would  not  un 
derstand.  She  could  not  write  frankly  without  telling 
of  Henri,  and  to  this  point  everything  had  centered 
about  Henri.  It  all  rather  worried  her,  because  there 
was  nothing  she  was  ashamed  of,  nothing  she  should 
have  had  to  conceal.  She  had  yet  to  learn,  had  Sara 
Lee,  that  many  of  the  concealments  of  life  are  based 
not  on  wrongdoing  but  on  fear  of  misunderstanding. 

So  she  got  as  far  as :  "  Dearest  Harvey:  I  am  here 
in  a  hotel  at  Dunkirk  " —  and  then  stopped,  fairly  en 
gulfed  in  a  wave  of  homesickness.  Not  so  much  for 
Harvey  as  for  familiar  things  —  Uncle  James  in  his 
chair  by  the  fire,  with  the  phonograph  playing  "  My 
Little  Gray  Home  in  the  West " ;  her  own  white  bed 
room  ;  the  sun  on  the  red  geraniums  in  the  dining-room 
window ;  the  voices  of  happy  children  wandering  home 
from  school. 

She  got  up  and  went  to  the  window,  first  blowing 
out  the  candle.  Outside,  the  town  lay  asleep,  and 
from  a  gate  in  the  old  wall  a  sentry  with  a  bugle  blew  a 
•quiet  "  All's  well."  From  somewhere  near,  on  top  of 
the  mairie  perhaps,  where  eyes  all  night  searched  the 
sky  for  danger,  came  the  same  trumpet  call  of  safety 
for  the  time,  of  a  little  longer  for  quiet  sleep. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE      99 

For  two  days  the  girl  was  alone.  There  was  no 
sign  of  Henri.  She  had  nothing  to  read,  and  her  eyes, 
watching  hour  after  hour  the  panorama  that  passed 
through  the  square  under  her  window,  searched  vainly 
for  his  battered  gray  car.  In  daytime  the  panorama 
was  chiefly  of  motor  lorries  —  she  called  them  trucks 
—  piled  high  with  supplies,  often  fodder  for  the  horses 
in  that  vague  district  beyond  ammunition  and  food. 
Now  and  then  a  battery  rumbled  through,  its  gunners 
on  the  limbers,  detached,  with  folded  arms;  and  al 
ways  there  were  soldiers. 

Sometimes,  from  her  window,  she  saw  the  market 
people  below,  in  their  striped  red-and-white  booths, 
staring  up  at  the  sky.  She  would  look  up,  too,  and 
there  would  be  an  aeroplane  sliding  along,  sometimes 
so  low  that  one  could  hear  the  faint  report  of  the  ex 
haust. 

But  it  was  the  ambulances  that  Sara  Lee  looked  for. 
Mostly  they  came  at  night,  a  steady  stream  of  them. 
Sometimes  they  moved  rapidly.  Again  one  would  be 
going  very  slowly,  and  other  machines  would  circle 
impatiently  round  it  and  go  on.  A  silent,  grim  pro 
cession  in  the  moonlight  it  was,  and  it  helped  the 
girl  to  bear  the  solitude  of  those  two  interminable 
days. 

Inside  those  long  gray  cars  with  the  red  crosses 
painted  on  the  tops  —  a  symbol  of  mercy  that  had 
ceased  to  protect  —  inside  those  cars  were  wounded 
men,  men  who  had  perhaps  lain  for  hours  without 
food  or  care.  Surely,  surely  it  was  right  that  she  had 


ioo     THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

come.  The  little  she  could  do  must  count  in  the  great 
total.  She  twisted  Harvey's  ring  on  her  finger  and 
sent  a  little  message  to  him. 

"  You  will  forgive  me  when  you  know,  dear,"  was 
the  message.  "  It  is  so  terrible!  So  pitiful!  " 

Yet  during  the  day  the  square  was  gay  enough. 
Officers  in  spurs  clanked  across,  wide  capes  blowing 
in  the  wind.  Common  soldiers  bought  fruit  and  paper 
bags  of  fried  potatoes  from  the  booths.  Countless 
dogs  fought  under  the  feet  of  passers-by,  and  over  all 
leered  the  sardonic  face  of  Jean  Bart,  pirate  and  pri 
vateer. 

Sara  Lee  went  out  daily,  but  never  far.  And  she 
practiced  French  with  the  maid,  after  this  fashion: 

"  Draps  de  toile"  said  the  smiling  maid,  putting  the 
linen  sheets  on  the  bed. 

Sara  Lee  would  repeat  it  some  six  times. 

"  Taies  d'oreiller"  when  the  pillows  came.  So 
Sara  Lee  called  pillows  by  the  name  of  their  slips  from 
that  time  forward!  Came  a  bright  hour  when  she 
rang  the  bell  for  the  boy  and  asked  for  matches,  which 
she  certainly  did  not  need,  with  entire  success. 

On  the  second  night  Sara  Lee  slept  badly.  At  two 
o'clock  she  heard  a  sound  in  the  hall,  and  putting  on 
her  kimono,  opened  the  door.  On  a  stiff  chair  out 
side,  snoring  profoundly,  sat  Jean,  fully  dressed. 

The  light  from  her  candle  roused  him  and  he  was 
wide  awake  in  an  instant. 

"  Why,  Jean !  "  she  said.  "  Isn't  there  any  place 
for  you  to  sleep  ?  " 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     101 

"  I  am  to  remain  here,  mademoiselle,"  he  replied  in 
English. 

"  But  surely  —  not  because  of  me  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  captain's  order,"  he  said  briefly. 

"  I  don't  understand.     Why  ?  " 

"  All  sorts  of  people  come  to  this  place,  mademoi 
selle.  But  few  ladies.  It  is  best  that  I  remain  here." 

She  could  not  move  him.  He  had  remained  stand 
ing  while  she  spoke  to  him,  and  now  he  yawned,  striv 
ing  to  conceal  it.  Sara  Lee  felt  very  uncomfortable, 
but  Jean's  attitude  and  voice  alike  were  firm.  She 
thanked  him  and  said  good  night,  but  she  slept  little 
after  that. 

Lying  there  in  the  darkness,  a  warm  glow  of  grati 
tude  to  Henri,  and  a  feeling  of  her  safety  in  his  care, 
wrapped  her  like  a  mantle.  She  wondered  drowsily 
if  Harvey  would  ever  have  thought  of  all  the  small 
things  that  seemed  second  nature  to  this  young  Belgian 
officer. 

She  rather  thought  not. 


IX 

\\7RILE  she  was  breakfasting  the  next  morning 
»  V  there  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  thinking  it 
the  maid  she  called  to  her  to  come  in. 

But  it  was  Jean,  an  anxious  Jean,  twisting  his  cap 
in  his  hands. 

"  You  have  had  a  message  from  the  captain,  made 
moiselle?" 

"  No,  Jean." 

"  He  was  to  have  returned  during  the  night.  He 
has  not  come,  mademoiselle." 

Sara  Lee  forgot  her  morning  negligee  in  Jean's  har 
assed  face. 

"  But  —  where  did  he  go?  " 

Jean  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  did  not  reply. 

"  Are  you  worried  about  him?  " 

"  I  am  anxious,  mademoiselle.  But  I  am  often  anx 
ious  ;  and  —  he  always  returns." 

He  smiled  almost  sheepishly.  Sara  Lee,  who  had 
no  subtlety  but  a  great  deal  of  intuition,  felt  that  there 
was  a  certain  relief  in  the  smile,  as  though  Jean,  hav 
ing  had  no  message  from  his  master,  was  pleased  that 
she  had  none.  Which  was  true  enough,  at  that.  Also 
she  felt  that  Jean's  one  eye  was  inspecting  her  closely, 
which  was  also  true.  A  new  factor  had  come  into 
Henri's  life  —  by  Jean's  reasoning,  a  new  and  dan 
gerous  one.  And  there  were  dangers  enough  already. 

103 


io4    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Highly  dangerous,  Jean  reflected  in  the  back  of  his 
head  as  he  backed  out  with  a  bow.  A  young  girl  un 
afraid  of  the  morning  sun  and  sitting  at  a  little  break 
fast  table  as  fresh  as  herself  —  that  was  a  picture  for 
a  war-weary  man. 

Jean  forgot  for  a  moment  his  anxiety  for  Henri's 
safety  in  his  fear  for  his  peace  of  mind.  For  a  doubt 
had  been  removed.  The  girl  was  straight.  Jean's  one 
sophisticated  eye  had  grasped  that  at  once.  A  good 
girl,  alone,  and  far  from  home!  And  Henri,  like  all 
soldiers,  woman-hungry  for  good  women,  for  un- 
painted  skins  and  clear  eyes  and  the  freshness  and 
bloom  of  youth. 

All  there,  behind  that  little  breakfast  table  which 
might  so  pleasantly  have  been  laid  for  two. 

Jean  took  a  walk  that  morning,  and  stood  staring  for 
twenty  minutes  into  a  clock  maker's  window,  full  of 
clocks.  After  which  he  drew  out  his  watch  and  looked 
at  the  time ! 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  Sara  Lee  saw  Henri's  car 
come  into  the  square.  It  was,  if  possible,  more  dilapi 
dated  than  before,  and  he  came  like  a  gray  whirlwind, 
scattering  people  and  dogs  out  of  his  way.  Almost 
before  he  had  had  time  to  enter  the  hotel  Sara  Lee 
heard  him  in  the  hall,  and  the  next  moment  he  was 
bowing  before  her. 

"  I  have  been  longer  than  I  expected,"  he  explained. 
"  Have  you  been  quite  comfortable?  " 

Sara  Lee,  however,  was  gazing  at  him  with  startled 
eyes.  He  was  dirty,  unshavea  and  his  eyes  looked 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     105 

hollow  and  bloodshot.  From  his  neck  to  his  heels  he 
was  smeared  with  mud,  and  his  tidy  tunic  was  torn  into 
ragged  holes. 

"  But  you  —  you  have  been  fighting !  "  she  gasped. 

"  I  ?  No,  mademoiselle.  There  has  been  no  bat 
tle."  His  eyes  left  her  and  traveled  over  the  room. 
"  They  are  doing  everything  for  you  ?  They  are  at 
tentive?" 

"  Everything  is  splendid,"  said  Sara  Lee.  "  If  you 
won't  tell  me  how  you  got  into  that  condition,  at  least 
you  can  send  your  coat  down  to  me  to  mend." 

"  My  tunic !  "  He  looked  at  it  smilingly.  "  You 
would  do  that?" 

41 1  am  nearly  frantic  for  something  to  do." 

He  smiled,  and  suddenly  bending  down  he  took  her 
hand  and  kissed  it. 

"  You  are  not  only  very  beautiful,  mademoiselle,  but 
you  are  very  good." 

He  went  away  then,  and  Sara  Lee  got  out  her  sew 
ing  things.  The  tunic  came  soon,  carefully  brushed 
and  venr  ragged.  But  it  was  not  Jean  who  brought 
it;  it  was  the  Flemish  boy. 

And  tpstairs  in  a  small  room  with  two  beds  Sara 
Lee  might  have  been  surprised  to  find  Jean,  the  chauf 
feur,  lying  on  one,  while  Henri  shaved  himself  beside 
the  other.  For  Jean,  of  the  ragged  uniform  and  the 
patch  over  one  eye,  was  a  count  of  Belgium,  and  served 
Henri  because  he  loved  him.  And  because,  too,  he  was 
no  longer  useful  in  that  little  army  where  lay  his  heart. 

Sometime  a  book  will  be  written  about  the  Jeans  of 


106    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

this  war,  the  great  friendships  it  has  brought  forth  be 
tween  men.  And  not  the  least  of  its  stories  will  be 
that  of  this  Jean  of  the  one  eye.  But  its  place  is  not 
here. 

And  perhaps  there  will  be  a  book  about  the  Henris, 
also.  But  not  for  a  long  time,  and  even  then  with  care. 
For  the  heroes  of  one  department  of  an  army  in  the 
field  live  and  die  unsung.  Their  bravest  exploits  are 
buried  in  secrecy.  And  that  is  as  it  must  be.  But  it 
is  a  fine  tale  to  go  untold. 

After  he  had  bathed  and  shaved,  Henri  sat  down  at 
a  tiny  table  and  wrote.  He  drew  a  plan  also,  from  a 
rough  one  before  him.  Then  he  took  a  match  and 
burned  the  original  drawing  until  it  was  but  charred 
black  ashes.  When  he  had  finished  Jean  got  up  from 
the  bed  and  put  on  his  overcoat. 

"To  the  King?  "he  said. 

"  To  the  King,  old  friend." 

Jean  took  the  letter  and  went  out. 

Down  below,  Sara  Lee  sat  with  Henri's  ragged  tunic 
on  her  lap  and  stitched  carefully.  Sometime,  she  re 
flected,  she  would  be  mending  worn  garments  for  an 
other  man,  now  far  away.  A  little  flood  of  tender 
ness  came  over  her.  So  helpless  these  men!  There 
was  so  much  to  do  for  them!  And  soon,  please  God, 
she  would  be  helping  other  tired  and  weary  men,  with 
food,  and  perhaps  a  word  —  when  she  had  acquired 
some  French  —  and  perhaps  a  thread  and  needle. 

She  dined  alone  that  night,  as  usual.  Henri  did  not 
appear,  though  she  had  sent  what  she  suspected  was  his 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    107 

only  tunic  back  to  him  neatly  mended  at  five  o'clock. 

As  a  matter  of  fact  Henri  was  sound  asleep.  He 
had  meant  to  rest  only  for  an  hour  a  body  that  was  cry 
ing  aloud  with  fatigue.  But  Jean,  coming  in  quietly, 
had  found  him  sleeping  like  a  child,  and  had  put  his 
own  blanket  over  him  and  left  him.  Henri  slept  until 
morning,  when  Jean,  coming  up  from  his  vigil  outside 
the  American  girl's  door,  found  him  waking  and  rested, 
and  rang  for  coffee. 

Jean  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  his  bed  and  put  on 
his  shoes  and  puttees.  He  was  a  taciturn  man,  but 
now  he  had  something  to  say  that  he  did  not  like  to 
say.  And  Henri  knew  it. 

"  What  is  it?"  he  asked,  his  arms  under  his  head. 
"Come,  let  us  have  it!  It  is,  of  course,  about  the 
American  lady." 

"  It  is,"  Jean  said  bluntly.  "  You  cannot  mix 
women  and  war." 

"  And  you  think  I  am  doing  that?  " 

"  I  am  not  an  idiot,"  Jean  growled.  "  You  do  not 
know  what  you  are  doing.  I  do.  She  is  young  and 
lonely.  You  are  young  and  —  not  unattractive  to 
women.  Already  she  turns  pale  when  I  so  much  as 
ask  if  she  has  heard  from  you." 

"You  asked  her  that?" 

"  You  were  gone  much  longer  than " 

"  And  you  thought  I  might  send  her  word,  and  not 
you!"  Henri's  voice  was  offended.  He  lay  back 
while  the  boy  brought  in  the  morning  coffee  and  rolls. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  something,"  he  said  when  the  boy 


io8    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

had  gone.  "  She  is  betirothed  to  an  American.  She 
wears  a  betrothal  ring.  I  am  to  her  —  the  French 
language !  " 

But  though  Henri  laughed  Jean  remained  grave  and 
brooding.  For  Henri  had  not  said  what  Sara  Lee  al 
ready  was  to  him. 

It  was  later  in  the  morning  that  Henri  broached  the 
subject  again.  They  were  in  the  courtyard  of  an  old 
house,  working  over  the  engine  of  the  car. 

"  I  think  I  have  found  a  location  for  the  young 
American  lady,"  he  said. 

Jean  hammered  for  a  considerable  time  at  a  refrac 
tory  rim. 

"  And  where?  "  he  asked  at  last. 

Henri  named  the  little  town.  Like  Henri's  family 
name,  it  must  not  be  told.  Too  many  things  happened 
there,  and  perhaps  it  is  even  now  Henri's  headquarters. 
For  that  portion  of  the  line  has  changed  very  little. 

Jean  fell  to  renewed  hammering. 

"If  you  will  be  silent  I  shall  explain  a  plan,"  Henri 
said  in  a  cautious  tone.  "  She  will  make  soup,  with 
help  which  we  shall  find.  And  if  coming  in  for  re 
freshments  a  soldier  shall  leave  a  letter  for  me  it  is 
natural,  is  it  not?  " 

"  She  will  suspect,  of  course." 

"  I  think  not.  And  she  reads  no  French.  None 
whatever." 

Yet  Jean's  suspicions  were  not  entirely  allayed.  The 
plan  had  its  advantages.  It  was  important  that  Henri 
receive  certain  reports,  and  already  the  hotel  whispered 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     109 

that  Henri  was  of  the  secret  service.  It  brought  him 
added  deference,  of  course,  but  additional  danger. 

So  Jean  accepted  the  plan,  but  with  reservation. 
And  it  was  not  long  afterward  that  he  said  to  Sara 
Lee,  in  French :  "  There  is  a  spider  on  your  neck, 
mademoiselle/' 

But  Sara  Lee  only  said,  "  I'm  sorry,  Jean ;  you'll 
have  to  speak  English  to  me  for  a  while,  I'm  afraid." 

And  though  he  watched  her  for  five  minutes  she  did 
not  put  her  hand  to  her  neck. 

However,  that  was  later  on.  That  afternoon  Henri 
spent  an  hour  with  the  Minister  of  War.  And  at  the 
end  of  that  time  he  said :  "  Thank  you,  Baron.  I 
think  you  will  not  regret  it.  America  must  learn  the 
truth,  and  how  better  than  through  those  friendly  peo 
ple  who  come  to  us  to  help  ?  " 

It  is  as  well  to  state,  however,  that  he  left  the  Min 
ister  of  War  with  the  undoubted  impression  that  Miss 
Sara  Lee  Kennedy  was  a  spinster  of  uncertain  years. 

Sara  Lee  packed  her  own  suitcase  that  afternoon, 
doing  it  rather  nervously  because  Henri  was  standing 
in  the  room  by  the  window  waiting  for  it.  He  had 
come  in  as  matter-of-factly  as  Harvey  had  entered  the 
parlor  at  Aunt  Harriet's,  except  that  he  carried  in  his 
arms  some  six  towels,  a  cake  of  soap  and  what  looked 
suspiciously  like  two  sheets. 

"  The  house  I  have  under  consideration/'  he  said, 
"  has  little  to  recommend  it  but  the  building,  and  even 

that The  occupants  have  gone  away,  and  —  you 

are  not  a  soldier." 


i  io    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Sara  Lee  eyed  the  bundle. 

"  I  don't  need  sheets,"  she  expostulated. 

"  There  are  but  two.  And  Jean  has  placed  blankets 
in  the  car.  You  must  have  a  pillow  also.'* 

He  calmly  took  one  of  the  hotel  pillows  from  the 
bed. 

"What  else?"  he  asked  calmly.  "Cigarettes? 
But  no,  you  do  not  smoke." 

Sara  Lee  eyed  him  with  something  very  like  despair. 

"  Aren't  you  ever  going  to  let  me  think  for  myself  ?  " 

"  Would  you  have  thought  of  these?  "  he  demanded 
triumphantly.  "  You  —  you  think  only  of  soup  and 
tired  soldiers.  Some  one  must  think  of  you." 

And  there  was  a  touch  of  tenderness  in  his  voice. 
Sara  Lee  felt  it  and  trembled  slightly.  He  was  so  fine, 
and  he  must  not  think  of  her  that  way.  It  wras  not 
real.  It  couldn't  be.  Men  were  lonely  here,  where 
everything  was  hard  and  cruel.  They  wanted  some  of 
the  softness  of  life,  and  all  of  kindness  and  sweetness 
that  she  could  give  should  be  Henri's.  But  she  must 
make  it  clear  that  there  could  never  be  anything  more. 

There  was  a  tightness  about  her  mouth  as  she  folded 
the  white  frock. 

"  I  know  that  garment,"  he  said  boyishly.  "  Do  you 
remember  the  night  you  wore  it?  And  how  we  wan 
dered  in  the  square  and  made  the  plan  that  has  brought 
us  together  again?  " 

Sara  Lee  reached  down  into  her  suitcase  and  brought 
up  Harvey's  picture. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    in 

"  I  would  like  you  to  see  this/'  she  said  a  little 
breathlessly.  "  It  is  the  man  I  am  to  marry." 

For  a  moment  she  thought  Henri  was  not  going  to 
take  it.  But  he  came,  rather  slowly,  and  held  out  his 
hand  for  it.  He  went  with  it  to  the  window  and  stood 
there  for  some  time  looking  down  at  it. 

"  When  are  you  going  to  marry  him,  mademoi 
selle?" 

"  As  soon  as  I  go  back." 

Sara  Lee  had  expected  some  other  comment,  but  he 
made  none.  He  put  the  photograph  very  quietly  on 
the  bed  before  her,  and  gathered  up  the  linen  and  the 
pillow  in  his  arms. 

"  I  shall  send  for  your  luggage,  mademoiselle.  And 
you  will  find  me  at  the  car  outside,  waiting." 

And  so  it  was  that  a  very  silent  Henri  sat  with  Jean 
going  out  to  that  strange  land  which  was  to  be  Sara 
Lee's  home  for  many  months.  And  a  very  silent  Sara 
Lee,  flanked  with  pillow  and  blankets,  who  sat  back 
alone  and  tried  to  recall  the  tones  of  Harvey's  voice. 

And  failed. 


FROM  Dunkirk  to  the  Front,  the  road,  after  the 
Belgian  line   was  passed,   was   lightly  guarded. 
Henri  came  out  of  a  reverie  to  explain  to  Sara  Lee. 

"  We  have  not  many  men,"  he  said.  "  And  those 
that  remain  are  holding  the  line.  It  is  very  weary,  our 
army." 

Now  at  home  Uncle  James  had  thought  very  highly 
of  the  Belgian  Army.  He  had  watched  the  fight  they 
made,  and  he  had  tried  to  interest  Sara  Lee  in  it.  But 
without  much  result.  She  had  generally  said :  "Isn't 
it  wonderful!"  or  "horrible,"  as  the  case  might  be, 
and  put  out  of  her  mind  as  soon  as  possible  the  ring 
ing  words  he  had  been  reading.  But  she  had  not  for 
gotten,  she  found.  They  came  back  to  her  as  she  rode 
through  that  deserted  countryside.  Henri,  glancing 
back  somewhat  later,  found  her  in  tears. 

He  climbed  back  at  once  into  the  rear  of  the  car  and 
sat  down  beside  her. 

u  You  are  homesick,  I  think?  " 

"  Yes.  But  not  for  myself.  I  am  just  homesick 
for  all  the  people  who  have  lost  their  homes.  You  — - 
and  Jean,  and  all  the  rest." 

"  Some  day  I  shall  tell  you  about  my  home  and  what 
has  happened  to  it,"  he  said  gravely.  "  Not  now.  It 
is  not  pleasant.  But  you  must  remember  this:  We 
are  going  back  home,  we  Belgians."  And  after  a  little 
pause :  "  Just  as  you  are." 

113 


ii4    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

He  lapsed  into  silence  after  that,  and  Sara  Lee,  steal 
ing  a  glance  at  him,  saw  his  face  set  and  hard.  She 
had  a  purely  maternal  impulse  to  reach  over  and  pat 
his  hand. 

Jean  did  not  like  Henri's  shift  to  the  rear  of  the 
car.  He  drove  with  a  sort  of  irritable  feverishness, 
until  Henri  leaned  over  and  touched  him  on  the  shoul 
der. 

"  We  have  mademoiselle  with  us,  Jean,"  he  said  in 
French. 

"  It  is  not  difficult  to  believe/*  growled  Jean.  But 
he  slackened  his  pace  somewhat. 

So  far  the  road  had  been  deserted.  Now  they  had 
come  up  to  a  stream  of  traffic  flowing  slowly  toward 
the  Front.  Armored  cars,  looking  tall  and  top-heavy, 
rumbled  and  jolted  along.  Many  lorries,  one  limou 
sine  containing  a  general,  a  few  Paris  buses,  all 
smeared  a  dingy  gray  and  filled  with  French  soldiers, 
numberless  and  nondescript  open  machines,  here  and 
there  a  horse-drawn  vehicle  —  these  filled  the  road. 
In  and  out  among  them  Jean  threaded  his  way,  while 
Sara  Lee  grew  crimson  with  the  effort  to  see  it  all, 
and  Henri  sat  very  stiff  and  silent. 

At  a  crossroads  they  were  halted  by  troops  who  had 
fallen  out  for  a  rest.  The  men  stood  at  ease,  and 
stared  their  fill  at  Sara  Lee.  Save  for  a  few  weary 
peasants,  most  of  them  had  seen  no  women  for  months. 
But  they  were  respectful,  if  openly  admiring.  And 
their  admiration  of  her  was  nothing  to  Sara  Lee's  feel 
ing  toward  them.  She  loved  them  all  —  boys  with 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    115 

their  first  straggly  beards  on  their  chins;  older  men, 
looking  worn  and  tired;  French  and  Belgian;  smiling 
and  sad.  But  most  of  all,  for  Uncle  James'  sake,  she 
loved  the  Belgians. 

*'  I  cannot  tell  you/'  she  said  breathlessly  to  Henri. 
"  It  is  like  a  dream  come  true.  And  I  shall  help.  You 
look  doubtful  sometimes,  but  I  am  sure." 

"  You  are  heaven  sent,"  Henri  replied  gravely. 

They  turned  into  a  crossroad  after  a  time,  and  there 
in  a  little  village  Sara  Lee  found  her  new  home.  A 
strange  village  indeed,  unoccupied  and  largely  de 
stroyed.  Piles  of  bricks  and  plaster  lined  the  streets. 
Broken  glass  was  everywhere.  Jean  blew  out  a  tire 
finally,  because  of  the  glass,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
walk  the  remainder  of  the  way. 

*'  A  poor  place,  mademoiselle,"  Henri  said  as  they 
went  along.  "  A  peaceful  little  town,  and  quite  beau 
tiful,  once.  And  it  harbored  no  troops.  But  every 
thing  is  meat  for  the  mouths  of  their  guns." 

Sara  Lee  stopped  and  looked  about  her.  Her  heart 
was  beating  fast,  but  her  lips  were  steady  enough. 

"  And  it  is  here  that  I " 

"  A  little  distance  down  the  street.  You  must  see 
before  you  decide." 

Steady,  passionless  firing  was  going  on,  not  near, 
but  far  away,  like  low  thunder  before  a  summer  storm. 
She  was  for  months  to  live,  to  eat  and  sleep  and  dream 
to  that  rumbling  from  the  Ypres  salient,  to  waken  when 
it  ceased  or  to  look  up  from  her  work  at  the  strange 
silence.  But  it  was  new  to  her  then,  and  terrible. 


n6    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"Do  they  still  shell  this  — this  town?"  she  asked, 
rather  breathlessly. 

"  Not  now.  They  have  done  their  work.  Of 
course "  he  did  not  finish. 

Sara  Lee's  heart  slowed  down  somewhat.  After  all, 
she  had  asked  to  be  near  the  Front.  And  that  meant 
guns  and  such  destruction  as  was  all  about  her.  Only 
one  thing  troubled  her. 

"  It  is  rather  far  from  the  trenches,  isn't  it?  " 

He  smiled  slightly. 

"  Far !  It  is  not  very  far.  Not  so  far  as  I  would 
wish,  mademoiselle.  But,  to  do  what  you  desire,  it  is 
the  best  I  have  to  offer." 

"  How  far  away  are  the  trenches  ?  " 

"  A  quarter  of  a  mile  beyond  those  poplar  trees." 
He  indicated  on  a  slight  rise  a  row  of  great  trees 
broken  somewhat  but  not  yet  reduced  to  the  twisted 
skeletons  they  were  to  become  later  on.  In  a  long 
line  they  faced  the  enemy  like  sentinels,  winter-quiet 
but  dauntless,  and  behind  them  lay  the  wreck  of  the 
little  village,  quiet  and  empty. 

"  Will  the  men  know  I  am  here  ?  "  Sara  Lee  asked 
anxiously. 

"  But,  yes,  mademoiselle.  At  night  they  come  up 
from  the  trenches,  and  fresh  troops  take  their  places. 
They  come  up  this  street  and  go  on  to  wherever  they 
are  to  rest.  And  when  they  find  that  a  house  of  —  of 
mercy  is  here  —  and  soup,  they  will  come.  More  than 
you  wish." 

"Belgian  soldiers?" 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    117 

"  Only  Belgian  soldiers.  That  is  as  you  want  it  to 
be,  I  think." 

"If  only  I  spoke  French!" 

"  You  will  learn.  And  in  the  meantime,  made 
moiselle,  I  have  taken  the  liberty  of  finding  you  a 
servant  —  a  young  peasant  woman.  And  you  will  also 
have  a  soldier  always  on  guard." 

Something  that  had  been  in  the  back  of  Sara  Lee's 
mind  for  some  time  suddenly  went  away.  She  had 
been  thinking  of  Aunt  Harriet  and  the  Ladies'  Aid 
Society  of  the  Methodist  Church.  She  had,  in  fact, 
been  wondering  how  they  would  feel  when  they  learned 
that  she  was  living  alone,  the  only  woman  among  thou 
sands  of  men.  It  had,  oddly  enough,  never  occurred 
to  her  before. 

"  You  have  thought  of  everything,"  she  said  grate 
fully. 

But  Henri  said  nothing.  He  had  indeed  thought  of 
everything  with  a  vengeance,  with  the  net  result  that 
he  was  not  looking  at  Sara  Lee  more  than  he  could 
help. 

These  Americans  were  strange.  An  American  girl 
would  cross  the  seas,  and  come  here  alone  with  him  — 
a  man  and  human.  And  she  would  take  for  granted 
that  he  would  do  what  he  was  doing  for  love  of  his 
kind  —  which  was  partly  true ;  and  she  would  be  beau 
tiful  and  sweet  and  amiable  and  quite  unself -conscious. 
And  then  she  would  go  back  home,  warm  of  heart  with 
gratitude,  and  marry  the  man  of  the  picture. 

The  village  had  but  one  street,  and  that  deserted  and 


u8    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

in  ruins.  Behind  its  double  row  of  houses,  away  from 
the  enemy,  lay  the  fields,  a  muddy  canal  and  more 
poplar  trees.  And  from  far  away,  toward  Ypres, 
there  came  constantly  that  somewhat  casual  booming 
of  artillery  which  marked  the  first  winter  of  the  war. 

The  sound  of  the  guns  had  first  alarmed,  then  inter 
ested  Sara  Lee.  It  was  detached  then,  far  away.  It 
meant  little  to  her.  It  was  only  later,  when  she  saw 
some  of  the  results  of  the  sounds  she  heard,  that  they 
became  significant.  But  this  is  not  a  tale  of  the  wound 
ing  of  men.  There  are  many  such.  This  is  the  story 
of  a  little  house  of  mercy,  and  of  a  girl  with  a  daunt 
less  spirit,  and  of  two  men  who  loved  her.  Only  that. 

The  maid  Henri  had  found  was  already  in  the  house, 
sweeping.  Henri  presented  her  to  Sara  Lee,  and  he 
also  brought  a  smiling  little  Belgian  boy,  in  uniform 
and  with  a  rifle. 

"  Your  staff,  mademoiselle !  "  he  said.  "  And  your 
residence ! " 

Sara  Lee  looked  about  her.  With  the  trifling  ex 
ception  that  there  was  no  roof,  it  was  whole.  And  the 
roof  was  not  necessary,  for  the  floors  of  the  upper 
story  served  instead.  There  was  a  narrow  passage 
with  a  room  on  either  side,  and  a  tiny  kitchen  behind. 

Henri  threw  open  a  door  on  the  right. 

"  Your  bedroom,"  he  said.  "  Well  furnished,  as 
you  will  see.  It  should  be,  since  there  has  been  brought 
here  all  the  furniture  not  destroyed  in  the  village." 

His  blacker  mood  had  fallen  away  before  her  naive 
delight.  He  went  about  smiling  boyishly,  showing  her 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     119 

the  kettles  in  the  kitchen;  the  supply,  already  so  rare,, 
of  firewood;  the  little  stove.  But  he  stiffened  some 
what  when  she  placed  her  hand  rather  timidly  on  his 
arm. 

"  How  am  I  ever  to  thank  you?  "  she  asked. 

"  By  doing  much  good.  And  by  never  going  be 
yond  the  poplar  trees." 

She  promised  both  very  earnestly. 

But  she  was  a  little  sad  as  she  followed  Henri  about, 
he  volubly  expatiating  on  such  advantages  as  plenty  of 
air  owing  to  the  absence  of  a  roof ;  and  the  attraction 
of  the  stove,  which  he  showed  much  like  a  salesman 
anxious  to  make  a  sale.  "  Such  a  stove !  "  he  finished 
contentedly.  "  It  will  make  soup  even  in  your  absence, 
mademoiselle!  Our  peasants  eat  much  soup;  there 
fore  it  is  what  you  would  call  a  trained  stove." 

Before  Sara  Lee's  eyes  came  a  picture  of  Harvey 
and  the  Leete  house,  its  white  dining  room,  its  bay 
window  for  plants,  its  comfortable  charm  and  pretti- 
ness.  And  Harvey's  face,  as  he  planned  it  for  her  — • 
anxious,  pleading,  loving.  She  drew  a  long  breath. 

If  Henri  noticed  her  abstraction  he  ignored  it.  He 
was  all  over  the  little  house.  One  moment  he  was  in 
structing  Marie  volubly,  to  her  evident  confusion.  On 
Rene,  the  guard,  he  descended  like  a  young  cyclone, 
with  warnings  for  mademoiselle's  safety  and  comfort. 
He  was  everywhere,  sitting  on  the  bed  to  see  if  it  was 
soft,  tramping  hard  on  the  upper  floor  to  discover  if 
any  plaster  might  loosen  below,  and  pausing  in  that 


120    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

process  to  look  keenly  at  a  windmill  in  the  field  be 
hind. 

When  he  came  down  it  was  to  say :  "  You  are  not 
entirely  alone  in  the  village,  after  all,  mademoiselle. 
The  miller  has  come  back.  I  shall  visit  him  now  and 
explain." 

He  found  Sara  Lee,  however,  still  depressed.  She 
was  sitting  in  a  low  chair  in  the  kitchen  gazing  thought 
fully  at  the  stove. 

"  I  am  here,"  she  said.  "  And  here  is  the  house,  and 
a  stove,  and  —  everything.  But  there  are  no  shops ; 
and  what  shall  I  make  my  soup  out  of?  " 

Henri  stared  at  her  rather  blankly. 

"  True ! "  he  said.  "  Very  true.  And  I  never 
thought  of  it!" 

Then  suddenly  they  both  laughed,  the  joyous  ring 
ing  laugh  of  ridiculous  youth,  which  can  see  its  own 
absurdities  and  laugh  at  them. 

Henri  counted  off  on  his  fingers. 

"  I  thought  of  water,"  he  said,  "  and  a  house,  and 
firewood,  and  kettles  and  furniture.  And  there  I 
ceased  thinking." 

It  was  dusk  now.  Marie  lifted  the  lid  from  the 
stove,  and  a  warm  red  glow  of  reflected  light  filled  the 
little  kitchen.  It  was  warm  and  cozy;  the  kettle  sang 
like  the  purring  of  a  cat.  And  something  else  that  had 
troubled  Sara  Lee  came  out. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  if  you  are  doing  all  this 
only  because  I  —  well,  because  I  persuaded  you." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     121 

Which  she  had  not.  "  Do  the  men  really  need  me 
here?" 

"  Need  you,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Do  they  need  what  little  I  can  give?  They  were 
smiling,  all  the  ones  I  sa.w." 

"  A  Belgian  soldier  always  smiles.  Even  when  he 
is  fighting."  His  voice  had  lost  its  gayety  and  had 
taken  on  a  deeper  note.  "  Mademoiselle,  I  have 
brought  you  here,  where  I  can  think  of  no  other  woman 
who  would  have  the  courage  to  come,  because  you  are 
needed.  I  cannot  promise  you  entire  safety  " —  his 
mouth  tightened  — "  but  I  can  promise  you  work  and 
gratitude.  Such  gratitude,  mademoiselle,  as  you  may 
never  know  again." 

That  reassured  her.  But  in  her  practical  mind  the 
matter  of  supplies  loomed  large.  She  brought  the 
matter  up  again  directly. 

"  It  is  to  be  hot  chocolate  and  soup?  "  he  asked. 

"  Both,  if  I  find  I  have  enough  money.  Soup  only, 
perhaps." 

"  And  soup  takes  meat,  of  course." 

"  It  should,  to  be  strengthening." 

Henri  looked  up,  to  see  Jean  in  the  doorway  smiling 
grimly. 

"  It  is  very  simple,"  Jean  said  to  him  in  French. 
"  You  have  no  other  duties  of  course;  so  each  day  you 
shall  buy  in  the  market  place  at  Dunkirk,  with  Ameri 
can  money.  And  I  shall  become  a  delivery  boy  and 
bring  out  food  for  mademoiselle,  and  whatever  is 
needed." 


122    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Henri  smiled  back  at  him  cheerfully.  "  An  excellent 
plan,  Jean,"  he  said.  "  Not  every  day,  but  frequently." 

Jean  growled  and  disappeared. 

However,  there  was  the  immediate  present  to  think 
of,  and  while  Jean  thawed  his  hands  at  the  fire  and 
Sara  Lee  was  taking  housewifely  stock  of  her  new 
home,  Henri  disappeared. 

He  came  back  in  a  half  hour,  carrying  in  a  small 
basket  butter,  eggs,  bread  and  potatoes. 

"  The  miller !  "  he  explained  cheerfully  to  Sara  Lee. 
"  He  has  still  a  few  hens,  and  hidden  somewhere  a  cow. 
We  can  have  milk  —  is  there  a  pail  for  Marie  to  take 
to  the  mill  ?  —  and  bread  and  an  omelet.  That  is  a 
meal!" 

There  was  but  one  lamp,  which  hung  over  the  kitchen 
stove.  The  room  across  from  Sara  Lee's  bedroom 
contained  a  small  round  dining  table  and  chairs.  Sara 
Lee,  enveloped  in  a  large  pinafore  apron,  made  the 
omelet  in  the  kitchen.  Marie  brought  a  pail  of  fresh 
milk.  Henri,  with  a  towel  over  his  left  arm,  and  in 
absurd  mimicry  of  a  Parisian  waiter,  laid  the  table; 
and  Jean,  dour  Jean,  caught  a  bit  of  the  infection,  and 
finding  four  bottles  set  to  work  with  his  pocketknife 
to  fit  candles  into  their  necks. 

Standing  in  corners,  smiling,  useless  against  the 
cheerful  English  that  flowed  from  the  kitchen  stove 
to  the  dining  room  and  back  again,  were  Rene  and 
Marie.  It  was  of  no  use  to  attempt  to  help.  Did  the 
fire  burn  low,  it  was  the  young  officer  who  went  out 
for  fresh  wood.  But  Rene  could  not  permit  that 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     123 

twice.  He  brought  in  great  armfuls  of  firewood  and 
piled  them  neatly  by  the  stove. 

Henri  was  absurdly  happy  again.  He  would  come 
to  the  door  gravely,  with  Sara  Lee's  little  phrase  book 
in  hand,  and  read  from  it  in  a  solemn  tone : 

"  '  Shall  we  have  duck  or  chicken  ?  '  *  Where  can 
we  get  a  good  dinner  at  a  moderate  price  ?  '  '  Waiter, 
you  have  spilled  wine  on  my  dress.'  '  Will  you  have 
a  cigar?  '  '  No,  thank  you.  I  prefer  a  pipe.' ' 

And  Sara  Lee  beat  up  the  eggs  and  found,  after  a 
bad  moment,  some  salt  in  a  box,  and  then  poured  her 
omelet  into  the  pan.  She  was  very  anxious  that  it  be 
a  good  omelet.  She  must  make  good  her  claim  as  a 
cook  or  Henri's  sublime  faith  in  her  would  die. 

It  was  a  divine  omelet.  Even  Jean  said  so.  They 
sat,  the  three  of  them,  in  the  cold  little  dining  room 
and  never  knew  that  it  was  cold,  and  they  ate  pro 
digious  quantities  of  omelet  and  bread  and  butter,  and 
bully  beef  out  of  a  tin,  and  drank  a  great  deal  of  milk. 

Even  Jean  thawed  at  last,  under  the  influence  of  food 
and  Sara  Lee.  Before  the  meal  was  over  he  was  plan 
ning  how  to  get  her  supplies  to  her  and  making  notes 
on  a  piece  of  paper  as  to  what  she  would  need  at  once. 
They  adjourned  to  Sara  Lee's  bedroom,  where  Marie 
had  kindled  a  fire  in  the  little  iron  stove,  and  sat  there 
in  the  warmth  with  two  candles,  still  planning.  By 
that  time  Sara  Lee  had  quite  forgotten  that  at  home 
one  did  not  have  visitors  in  one's  bedroom. 

Suddenly  Henri  held  up  his  hand. 

"Listen!  "he  said. 


124    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

That  was  the  first  time  Sara  Lee  had  ever  heard  the 
quiet  shuffling  step  of  tired  men,  leaving  their  trenches 
under  cover  of  darkness.  Henri  threw  his  military 
cape  over  her  shoulders  and  she  stood  in  the  dark  door 
way,  watching. 

The  empty  street  was  no  longer  empty.  From  gut 
ter  to  gutter  flowed  a  stream  of  men,  like  a  sluggish 
river  which  narrowed  where  a  fallen  house  partly  filled 
the  way;  not  talking,  not  singing,  just  moving,  bent 
under  their  heavy  and  mud-covered  equipment.  Here 
and  there  the  clack  of  wooden  sabots  on  the  cobbles 
told  of  one  poor  fellow  not  outfitted  with  leather  shoes. 
The  light  of  a  match  here  and  there  showed  some  few 
lucky  enough  to  have  still  remaining  cigarettes,  and  re 
vealed  also,  in  the  immediate  vicinity,  a  white  bandage 
or  two.  Some  few,  recognizing  Henri's  officer's  cap, 
saluted.  Most  of  them  stumbled  on,  too  weary  to  so 
much  as  glance  aside. 

Nothing  that  Sara  Lee  had  dreamed  of  war  was  like 
this.  This  was  dreary  and  sodden  and  hopeless. 
Those  fresh  troops  at  the  crossroads  that  day  had  been 
blithe  and  smiling.  There  had  been  none  of  the  glitter 
and  panoply  of  war,  but  there  had  been  movement,  the 
beating  of  a  drum,  the  sharp  cries  of  officers  as  the 
lines  re-formed. 

Here  there  were  no  lines.  Just  such  a  stream  of 
men  as  at  home  might  issue  at  night  from  a  coal  mine, 
too  weary  for  speech.  Only  here  they  were  packed 
together  closely,  and  they  did  not  speak,  and  some  of 
them  were  wounded. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     125 

"There  are  so  many!"  she  whispered  to  Henri. 
"  A  hundred  such  efforts  as  mine  would  not  be 
enough." 

"  I  would  to  God  there  were  more !  "  Henri  replied, 
through  shut  teeth. 

"  Listen,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  later.  "  You  can 
not  do  all  the  kind  work  of  the  world.  But  you  can 
do  your  part.  And  you  will  start  by  caring  for  only 
such  as  are  wounded  or  ill.  The  others  can  go  on. 
But  every  night  some  twenty  or  thirty,  or  even  more, 
will  come  to  your  door  —  men  slightly  wounded  or  too 
weary  to  go  on  without  a  rest.  And  for  those  there 
will  be  a  chair  by  the  fire,  and  something  hot,  or  per 
haps  a  clean  bandage.  It  sounds  small?  But  in  a 
month,  think!  You  will  have  given  comfort  to  per 
haps  a  thousand  men.  You  —  alone !  " 

"I  —  alone !  "  she  said  in  a  queer  choking  voice. 
"  And  what  about  you  ?  It  is  you  who  have  made  it 
possible." 

But  Henri  was  looking  down  the  street  to  where  the 
row  of  poplars  hid  what  lay  beyond.  Far  beyond  a 
star  shell  had  risen  above  the  flat  fields  and  floated 
there,  a  pure  and  lovely  thing,  shedding  its  white  light 
over  the  terrain  below.  It  gleamed  for  some  thirty 
seconds  and  went  out. 

"  Like  that !  "  Henri  said  to  her,  but  in  French. 
"  Like  that  you  are  to  me.  Bright  and  shining  —  and 
so  soon  gone." 

Sara  Lee  thought  he  had  asked  her  if  she  was  cold. 


XI 

THE  girl  was  singularly  adaptable.  In  a  few  days 
it  was  as  though  she  had  been  for  years  in  her 
little  ruined  house.  She  was  very  happy,  though  there 
was  scarcely  a  day  when  her  heart  was  not  wrung. 
Such  young-old  faces!  Such  weary  men!  And  such 
tales  of  wretchedness! 

She  got  the  tales  by  intuition  rather  than  by  words, 
though  she  was  picking  up  some  French  at  that. 
Marie  would  weep  openly,  at  times.  The  most  fre 
quent  story  was  of  no  news  from  the  country  held  by 
the  Germans,  of  families  left  with  nothing  and  prob 
ably  starving.  The  first  inquiry  was  always  for  news. 
Had  the  American  lady  any  way  to  make  inquiry  ? 

In  time  Sara  Lee  began  to  take  notes  of  names  and 
addresses,  and  through  Mr.  Travers,  in  London,  and 
the  Relief  Commission,  in  Belgium,  bits  of  informa 
tion  came  back.  A  certain  family  was  in  England  at 
a  village  in  Surrey.  Of  another  a  child  had  died. 
Here  was  one  that  could  not  be  located,  and  another 
reported  massacred  during  the  invasion. 

Later  on  Sara  Lee  was  to  find  her  little  house  grow 
ing  famous,  besieged  by  anxious  soldiers  who  besought 
her  efforts,  so  that  she  used  enormous  numbers  of 
stamps  and  a  great  deal  of  effort.  But  that  was  later 
on.  And  when  that  time  came  she  turned  to  the  work 
as  a  refuge  from  her  thoughts.  For  days  were  com 
ing  when  Sara  Lee  did  not  want  to  think. 

127 


128    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

But  like  all  big  things  the  little  house  made  a  humble 
beginning.  A  mere  handful  of  men,  daring  the  gibes 
of  their  comrades,  stopped  in  that  first  night  the  door 
stood  open,  with  its  invitation  of  firelight  and  candles. 
But  these  few  went  away  with  a  strange  story  —  of  a 
beautiful  American,  and  hot  soup,  and  even  a  cigar 
ette  apiece.  That  had  been  Henri's  contribution,  the 
cigarettes.  And  soon  the  fame  of  the  little  house  went 
tip  and  down  the  trenches,  and  it  was  like  to  die  of 
overpopularity. 

It  was  at  night  that  the  little  house  of  mercy  bloomed 
like  a  flower.  During  the  daytime  it  was  quiet,  and  it 
was  then,  as  time  went  on,  that  Sara  Lee  wrote  her 
letters  home  and  to  England,  and  sent  her  lists  of 
names  to  be  investigated.  But  from  the  beginning 
there  was  much  to  do.  Vegetables  were  to  be  prepared 
for  the  soup,  Marie  must  find  and  bring  in  milk  for 
the  chocolate,  Rene  must  lay  aside  his  rifle  and  chop 
firewood. 

One  worry,  however,  disappeared  with  the  days. 
Henri  was  proving  a  clever  buyer.  The  money  she 
sent  in  secured  marvels.  Only  Jean  knew,  or  ever 
knew,  just  how  much  of  Henri's  steadily  decreasing 
funds  went  to  that  buying.  Certainly  not  Sara  Lee. 
And  Jean  expostulated  only  once  —  to  be  met  by  such 
blazing  fury  as  set  him  sullen  for  two  days. 

"  I  am  doing  this,"  Henri  finished,  a  trifle  ashamed 
of  himself,  "  not  for  mademoiselle,  but  for  our  army. 
And  since  when  have  you  felt  that  the  best  we  can  give 
is  too  much  for  such  a  purpose?  " 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     129 

Which  was,  however  lofty,  only  a  part  of  the 
truth. 

So  supplies  came  in  plentifully,  and  Sara  Lee  pared 
vegetables  and  sang  a  bit  under  her  breath,  and  glowed 
with  good  will  when  at  night  the  weary  vanguard  of  a 
weary  little  army  stopped  at  her  door  and  scraped  the 
mud  off  its  boots  and  edged  in  shyly. 

She  was  very  happy,  and  her  soup  was  growing  fa 
mous.  It  is  true  that  the  beef  she  used  was  not  often 
beef,  but  she  did  not  know  that,  and  merely  complained 
that  the  meat  was  stringy.  Now  and  then  there  was 
no  beef  at  all,  and  she  used  hares  instead.  On  quiet 
days,  when  there  was  little  firing  beyond  the  poplar 
trees,  she  went  about  with  a  basket  through  the  neg 
lected  winter  gardens  of  the  town.  There  were  Brus 
sels  sprouts,  and  sometimes  she  found  in  a  cellar 
carrots  or  cabbages.  She  had  potatoes  always. 

It  was  at  night  then,  from  seven  in  the  evening  until 
one,  that  the  little  house  was  busiest.  Word  had  gone 
out  through  the  trenches  beyond  the  poplar  trees  that 
slightly  wounded  men  needing  rest  before  walking  back 
to  their  billets,  exhausted  and  sick  men,  were  welcome 
to  the  little  house.  It  was  soon  necessary  to  give  the 
officers  tickets  for  the  men.  Rene  took  them  in  at  the 
door,  with  his  rifle  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and  he  was 
as  implacable  as  a  ticket  taker  at  the  opera. 

Never  once  in  all  the  months  of  her  life  there  did 
Sara  Lee  have  an  ugly  word,  an  offensive  glance.  But, 
though  she  never  knew  this,  many  half  articulate  and 
wholly  earnest  prayers  were  offered  for  her  in  those 


i3o    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

little  churches  behind  the  lines  where  sometimes  the 
men  slept,  and  often  they  prayed. 

She  was  very  businesslike.  She  sent  home  to  the 
Ladies'  Aid  Society  a  weekly  record  of  what  had  been 
done:  So  many  bowls  of  soup;  so  many  cups  of 
chocolate;  so  many  minor  injuries  dressed.  Because, 
very  soon,  she  found  first  aid  added  to  her  activities. 
She  sickened  somewhat  at  first.  Later  she  allowed  to 
Marie  much  of  the  serving  of  food,  and  in  the  little 
salle  a  manger  she  had  ready  on  the  table  basins,  water, 
cotton,  iodine  and  bandages. 

Henri  explained  the  method  to  her. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  cleanliness,"  he  said.  "  First  one 
washes  the  wound  and  then  there  is  the  iodine.  Then 
cotton,  a  bandage,  and  —  a  surgeon  could  do  little 
more." 

Henri  and  Jean  came  often.  And  more  than  once 
during  the  first  ten  days  Jean  spent  the  night  rolled  in 
a  blanket  by  the  kitchen  fire,  and  Henri  disappeared. 
He  was  always  back  in  the  morning,  however,  looking 
dirty  and  very  tired.  Sara  Lee  sewed  more  than  one 
rent  for  him,  those  days,  but  she  was  strangely  in 
curious.  It  was  as  though,  where  everything  was 
strange,  Henri's  erratic  comings  and  goings  were  but 
a  part  with  the  rest. 

Then  one  night  the  unexpected  happened.  The  vil 
lage  was  shelled. 

Sara  Lee  had  received  her  first  letter  from  Harvey 
that  day.  The  maid  at  Morley's  had  forwarded  it  to 
her,  and  Henri  had  brought  it  up. 


HENRI  EXPLAINED  THE  METHOD 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    131 

"  I  think  I  have  brought  you  something  you  wish  for 
very  much,"  he  said,  looking  down  at  her. 

"  Mutton  ?  "  she  inquired  anxiously. 

"Better  than  that." 

"Sugar?" 

"  A  letter,  mademoiselle." 

Afterward  he  could  not  quite  understand  the  way  she 
had  suddenly  drawn  in  her  breath.  He  had  no  mem 
ory,  as  she  had,  of  Harvey's  obstinate  anger  at  her 
going,  his  conviction  that  she  was  doing  a  thing  crim 
inally  wrong  and  cruel. 

"  Give  it  to  me,  please." 

She  took  it  into  her  room  and  closed  the  door. 
When  she  came  out  again  she  was  composed  and  quiet, 
but  rather  white.  Poor  Henri!  He  was  half  mad 
that  day  with  jealousy.  Her  whiteness  he  construed 
as  longing. 

This  is  a  part  of  Harvey's  letter : 

You  may  think  that  I  have  become  reconciled,  but 
I  have  not.  If  I  could  see  any  reason  for  it  I  might. 
But  what  reason  is  there  ?  So  many  others,  older  and 
more  experienced,  could  do  what  you  are  doing,  and 
more  safely. 

In  your  letter  from  the  steamer  you  tell  me  not  to 
worry.  Good  God,  Sara  Lee,  how  can  I  help  worry 
ing?  I  do  not  even  know  where  you  are !  If  you  are 
in  England,  well  and  good.  If  you  are  abroad  I  do 
not  want  to  know  it.  I  know  these  foreigners.  I  run 
into  them  every  day.  And  they  do  not  understand 


132    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

American  women.     I  get  crazy  when  I  think  about  it. 

I  have  had  to  let  the  Leete  house  go.  There  is  not 
likely  to  be  such  a  chance  soon  again.  Business  is 
good,  but  I  don't  seem  to  care  much  about  it  any  more. 
Honestly,  dear,  I  think  you  have  treated  me  very  badly. 
I  always  feel  as  though  the  people  I  meet  are  wonder 
ing  if  we  have  quarreled  or  what  on  earth  took  you 
away  on  this  wild-goose  chase.  I  don't  know  myself, 
so  how  can  I  tell  them  ? 

I  shall  always  love  you,  Sara  Lee.  I  guess  I'm  that 
sort.  But  sometimes  I  wonder  if,  when  we  are  mar 
ried,  you  will  leave  me  again  in  some  such  uncalled- 
for  way.  I  warn  you  now,  dear,  that  I  won't  stand 
for  it.  I'm  suffering  too  much.  HARVEY. 

Sara  Lee  wore  the  letter  next  her  heart,  but  it  did 
not  warm  her.  She  went  through  the  next  few  hours 
in  a  sort  of  frozen  composure  and  ate  nothing  at  all. 

Then  came  the  bombardment. 

Henri  and  Jean,  driving  out  from  Dunkirk,  had 
passed  on  the  road  ammunition  trains,  waiting  in  the 
road  until  dark  before  moving  on  to  the  Front.  Henri 
had  given  Sara  Lee  her  letter,  had  watched  jealously 
for  its  effect  on  her,  and  then,  his  own  face  white  and 
set,  had  gone  on  down  the  ruined  street. 

Here  within  the  walls  of  a  destroyed  house  he  dis 
appeared.  The  place  was  evidently  familiar  to  him, 
for  he  moved  without  hesitation.  Broken  furniture 
still  stood  in  the  roofless  rooms,  and  in  front  of  a  bat 
tered  bureau  Henri  paused.  Still  whistling  under  his 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     133 

breath,  he  took  off  his  uniform  and  donned  a  strange 
one,  of  greenish  gray.  In  the  pocket  of  the  blouse  he 
stuffed  a  soft  round  cap  of  the  same  color.  Then, 
resuming  his  cape  and  Belgian  cap,  with  its  tassel 
over  his  forehead,  he  went  out  into  the  street  again. 
He  carried  in  his  belt  a  pistol,  but  it  was  not  the  one 
he  had  brought  in  with  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  by 
the  addition  of  the  cap  in  his  pocket,  Henri  was  at 
that  moment  in  the  full  uniform  of  a  lieutenant  of  a 
Bavarian  infantry  regiment,  pistol  and  all. 

He  went  down  the  street  and  along  the  road  toward 
the  poplars.  He  met  the  first  detachment  of  men  out 
of  the  trenches  just  beyond  the  trees,  and  stepped  aside 
into  the  mud  to  let  them  pass,  calling  a  greeting  to 
them  out  of  the  darkness. 

"  Bonsoir! "  they  replied,  and  saluted  stiffly.  There 
were  few  among  them  who  did  not  know  his  voice,  and 
fewer  still  who  did  not  suspect  his  business. 

"  A  brave  man/'  they  said  among  themselves  as  they 
went  on. 

"  How  long  will  he  last  ?  "  asked  one  young  soldier, 
a  boy  in  his  teens. 

"  One  cannot  live  long  who  does  as  he  does,"  re 
plied  a  gaunt  and  bearded  man.  "  But  it  is  a  fine  life 
while  it  continues.  A  fine  life!  " 

The  boy  stepped  out  of  the  shuffling  line  and  looked 
behind  him.  He  could  see  only  the  glow  of  Henri's 
eternal  cigarette.  "  I  should  like  to  go  with  him,"  he 
muttered  wistfully. 

The  ammunition  train  was  in  the  village  now.     It 


134    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

kept  the  center  of  the  road,  lest  it  should  slide  into  the 
mud  on  either  side  and  be  mired.  The  men  moved 
out  of  its  way  into  the  ditch,  grumbling. 

Henri  went  whistling  softly  down  the  road. 

The  first  shell  fell  ir  the  neglected  square.  The  sec 
ond  struck  the  rear  wagons  of  the  ammunition  train. 
Henri  heard  the  terrifik  explosion  that  followed,  and 
turning  ran  madly  back  into  the  village.  More  shells 
fell  into  the  road.  The  men  scattered  like  partridges, 
running  for  the  fields,  but  the  drivers  of  the  ammuni 
tion  wagons  beat  their  horses  and  came  lurching  and 
shouting  down  the  road. 

There  was  cold  terror  in  Henri's  heart.  He  ran 
madly,  throwing  aside  his  cape  as  he  went.  More 
shells  fell  ahead  in  the  street.  Once  in  the  darkness  he 
fell  flat  over  the  body  of  a  horse.  There  was  a  steady 
groaning  from  the  ditch  near  by.  But  he  got  up  and 
ran  on,  a  strange  figure  with  his  flying  hair  and  his 
German  uniform. 

He  was  all  but  stabbed  by  Rene  when  he  entered  the 
little  house. 

"Mademoiselle?"  Henri  gasped,  holding  Rene's 
bayonet  away  from  his  heaving  chest. 

"  I  am  here,"  said  Sara  Lee's  voice  from  the  little 
salle  a  manger.  "  Let  them  carry  in  the  wounded.  I 
am  getting  ready  hot  water  and  bandages.  There  is 
not  much  space,  for  the  corner  of  room  has  been  shot 
away." 

She  was  dead  white  in  the  candlelight,  but  very, 
calm. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     135 

"  You  cannot  stay  here,"  Henri  panted.  "  At  any 
time » 

Another  shell  fell,  followed  by  the  rumble  of  falling 
walls. 

"  Some  one  must  stay,"  said  Sara  Lee.  "  There 
must  be  wounded  in  the  streets.  Marie  is  in  the 
cellar." 

Henri  pleaded  passionately  with  her  to  go  to  the 
cellar,  but  she  refused.  He  would  have  gathered  her 
up  in  his  arms  and  carried  her  there,  but  Jean  came  in, 
leading  a  wounded  man,  and  Henri  gave  up  in  despair. 

All  that  night  they  worked,  a  ghastly  business. 
More  than  one  man  died  that  night  in  the  little  house, 
while  a  blond  young  man  in  a  German  uniform  gave 
him  his  last  mouthful  of  water  or  took  down  those 
pitifully  vague  addresses  which  were  all  the  dying  Bel 
gians  had  to  give. 

"  I  have  not  heard  —  last  at  Aerschot,  but  now  — 
God  knows  where." 

No  more  shells  fell.  At  dawn,  with  all  done  that 
could  be  done,  Sara  Lee  fainted  quietly  in  the  hallway, 
and  Henri  carried  her  in  and  placed  her  on  her  bed.  A 
corner  of  the  room  was  indeed  gone.  The  mantel  was 
shattered,  and  the  little  stove.  But  on  the  floor  lay 
Harvey's  photograph,  uninjured.  Henri  lifted  it  and 
looked  at  it.  Then  he  placed  it  on  the  table,  and  very 
reverently  he  kissed  the  palm  of  Sara  Lee's  quiet  hand. 

Daylight  found  the  street  pitiful  indeed.  Henri,  at 
whose  costume  Rene  had  been  casting  wondering 
glances  all  night,  sent  a  request  for  men  from  the 


136    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

trenches  to  clear  away  the  bodies  of  the  horses  and  bury 
them,  and  somewhat  later  over  a  single  grave  in  the 
fields  there  was  a  simple  ceremony  of  burial  for  the 
men  who  had  fallen.  Henri  had  changed  again  by 
that  time,  but  he  sternly  forbade  Sara  Lee  to  attend. 

"  On  pain,"  he  said,  "  of  no  more  supplies,  made 
moiselle.  These  things  must  be.  They  are  war. 
But  you  can  do  nothing  to  help,  and  it  will  be  very  sad." 

Ambulances  took  away  the  wounded  at  dawn,  and 
the  little  house  became  quiet  once  more.  With  planks 
Rene  repaired  the  damage  to  the  corner,  and  trium 
phantly  produced  and  set  up  another  stove.  He  even 
put  up  a  mantelshelf,  and  on  it,  smiling  somewhat,  he 
placed  Harvey's  picture. 

Sara  Lee  saw  it  there,  and  a  tiny  seed  of  resentment 
took  root  and  grew. 

"  If  there  had  been  no  one  here  last  night,"  she  said 
to  the  photograph,  "  many  more  would  have  died. 
How  can  you  say  I  am  cruel  to  you?  Isn't  this  worth 
the  doing?" 

But  Harvey  remained  impassive,  detached,  his  eyes 
on  the  photographer's  white  muslin  screen.  And  the 
angle  of  his  jaw  was  set  and  dogged. 


XII 

THAT  morning  there  was  a  conference  in  the  little 
house  —  Colonel  Lilias,  who  had  come  in  before 
for  a  mute  but  appreciative  call  on  Sara  Lee,  and  for  a 
cup  of  chocolate ;  Captain  Tournay,  Jean  and  Henri. 
It  was  held  round  the  little  table  in  the  salle  a  manger, 
after  Marie  had  brought  coffee  and  gone  out. 

"  They  had  information  undoubtedly,"  said  the 
colonel.  "  The  same  thing  happened  at  Pervyse  when 
an  ammunition  train  went  through.  They  had  the 
place,  and  what  is  more  they  had  the  time.  Of  course 
there  are  the  airmen." 

"  It  did  not  leave  the  main  road  until  too  late  for 
observation  from  the  air,"  Henri  put  in  shortly. 

"  Yet  any  one  who  saw  it  waiting  at  the  crossroads 
might  have  learned  its  destination.  The  drivers  talk 
sometimes." 

"  But  the  word  had  to  be  carried  across,"  said  Cap 
tain  Tournay.  "  That  is  the  point.  My  men  report 
flashes  of  lights  from  the  fields.  We  have  followed 
them  up  and  found  no  houses,  no  anything.  In  this 
flat  country  a  small  light  travels  far." 

"  I  shall  try  to  learn  to-night,"  Henri  said.     "  It  is, 

of  course,  possible  that  some  one  from  over  there " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  think  not."  Colonel  Lilias  put  a  hand  on  Henri's 
shoulder  affectionately.  "  They  have  not  your  finesse, 
boy.  And  I  doubt  if,  in  all  their  army,  they  have  so 
brave  a  man." 

137 


138     THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Henri  flushed. 

"  There  is  a  courage  under  fire,  with  their  fellows 
round  —  that  is  one  thing.  And  a  courage  of  attack 
—  that  is  even  more  simple.  But  the  bravest  man  is 
the  one  who  works  alone  —  the  man  to  whom  capture 
is  death  without  honor." 

The  meeting  broke  up.  Jean  and  Henri  went  away 
in  the  car,  and  though  supplies  came  up  regularly  Sara 
Lee  did  not  see  the  battered  gray  car  for  four  days. 
At  the  end  of  that  time  Henri  came  alone.  Jean,  he 
said  briefly,  was  laid  up  for  a  little  while  with  a  flesh 
wound  in  his  shoulder.  He  would  be  well  very  soon. 
In  the  meantime  here  at  last  was  mutton.  It  had 
come  from  England,  and  he,  Henri,  had  found  it  lying 
forgotten  and  lonely  and  very  sad  and  had  brought  it 
along. 

After  that  Henri  disappeared  on  foot.  It  was  mid- 
afternoon  and  a  sunny  day.  Sara  Lee  saw  him  walk 
ing  briskly  across  the  fields  and  watched  him  out  of 
sight.  She  spoke  some  French  now,  and  she  had 
gathered  from  Rene,  who  had  no  scruples  about  listen 
ing  at  a  door,  that  Henri  was  the  bravest  man  in  the 
Belgian  Army. 

Until  now  Sara  Lee  had  given  small  thought  to 
Henri's  occupation.  She  knew  nothing  of  war,  and 
the  fact  that  Henri,  while  wearing  a  uniform,  was  un 
attached,  had  not  greatly  impressed  her.  Had  she 
known  the  constitution  of  a  modern  army  she  might 
have  wondered  over  his  freedom,  his  powerful  car,  his 
passes  and  maps.  But  his  detachment  had  not  seemed 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    139 

odd  to  her.  Even  his  appearance  during  the  bombard 
ment  in  the  uniform  of  a  German  lieutenant  had  meant 
nothing  to  her.  She  had  never  seen  a  German  uni 
form. 

That  evening,  however,  when  he  -returned  she  ven 
tured  a  question.  They  dined  together,  the  two  of 
them,  for  the  first  time  at  the  little  house  alone.  Al 
ways  before  Jean  had  made  the  third.  And  it  was  a 
real  meal,  for  Sara  Lee  had  sacrificed  a  bit  of  mutton 
from  her  soup,  and  Henri  had  produced  from  his  pocket 
a  few  small  and  withered  oranges. 

"A  gift! "  he  said  gayly,  and  piled  them  in  a  pre 
carious  heap  in  the  center  of  the  table.  On  the  exact 
top  he  placed  a  walnut. 

"  Now  speak  gently  and  walk  softly,"  he  said.  "  It 
is  a  work  of  art  and  not  to  be  lightly  demolished." 

He  was  alternately  gay  and  silent  during  the  meal, 
and  more  than  once  Sara  Lee  found  his  eyes  on  her, 
with  something  new  and  different  in  them. 

"  Just  you  and  I  together !  "  he  said  once.  "  It  is 
very  wonderful." 

And  again :  "  When  you  go  back  to  him,  shall  you 
tell  him  of  your  good  friend  who  has  tried  hard  to 
serve  you?" 

"  Of  course  I  shall,"  said  Sara  Lee.  "  And  he  will 
write  you,  I  know.  He  will  be  very  grateful." 

But  it  was  she  who  was  silent  after  that,  because 
somehow  it  would  be  hard  to  make  Harvey  under 
stand.  And  as  for  his  being  grateful 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  Henri  later  on,  "  would  you 


140    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

object  if  I  make  a  suggestion  ?  You  wear  a  very  valu 
able  ring.  I  think  it  is  entirely  safe,  but  —  who  can 
tell?  And  also  it  is  not  entirely  kind  to  remind  men 
who  are  far  from  all  they  love  that  you " 

Sara  Lee  flushed  and  took  off  her  ring. 

"  I  am  glad  you  told  me,"  she  said.  And  Henri  did 
not  explain  that  the  Belgian  soldiers  would  not  recog 
nize  the  ring  as  either  a  diamond  or  a  symbol,  but 
that  to  him  it  was  close  to  torture. 

It  was  when  he  insisted  on  carrying  out  the  dishes, 
singing  a  little  French  song  as  he  did  so,  that  Sara  Lee 
decided  to  speak  what  was  in  her  mind.  He  was  in 
high  spirits  then. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said,  "  shall  I  show  you 
something  that  the  eye  of  no  man  has  seen  before, 
and  that,  when  we  have  seen  it,  shall  never  be  seen 
again?  " 

On  her  interested  consent  he  called  in  Marie  and 
Rene,  making  a  great  ceremony  of  the  matter,  and 
sending  Marie  into  hysterical  giggling. 

"  Now  see !  "  he  said  earnestly.  "  No  eye  before 
has  ever  seen  or  will  again.  Will  you  guess,  made 
moiselle?  Or  you,  Marie?  Rene?" 

"  A  tear?  "  ventured  Sara  Lee. 

"  But  —  do  I  look  like  weeping?  " 

He  did  not,  indeed.  He  stood,  tall  and  young  and 
smiling  before  them,  and  produced  from  his  pocket 
the  walnut. 

"  Perceive! "  he  said,  breaking  it  open  and  showing 
the  kernel.  "Has  human  eve  ever  before  seen  it?" 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    141 

He  thrust  it  into  Marie's  open  mouth.  "  And  it  is 
gone !  Voila  tout!  " 

It  was  that  evening,  while  Sara  Lee  cut  bandages 
and  Henri  rolled  them,  that  she  asked  him  what  his 
work  was.  He  looked  rather  surprised,  and  rolled  for 
a  moment  without  replying.  Then :  "  I  am  a  man 
of  all  work,"  he  said.  "  What  you  call  odd  jobs." 

"  Then  you  don't  do  any  fighting?  " 

"  In  the  trenches  —  no.  But  now  and  then  I  have 
a  little  skirmish." 

A  sort  of  fear  had  been  formulating  itself  in  Sarah 
Lee's  mind.  The  trenches  she  could  understand  or 
was  beginning  to  understand.  But  this  alternately 
joyous  and  silent  idler,  this  soldier  of  no  regiment  and 
no  detail  —  was  he  playing  a  man's  part  in  the  war  ? 

"  Why  don't  you  go  into  the  trenches  ?  "  she  asked 
with  her  usual  directness.  "  You  say  there  are  too  few 
men.  Yet  —  I  can  understand  Monsieur  Jean,  because 
he  has  only  one  eye.  But  you !  " 

"  I  do  something,"  he  said,  avoiding  her  eyes.  "  It 
is  not  a  great  deal.  It  is  the  thing  I  can  do  best. 
That  is  all." 

He  went  away  some  time  after  that,  leaving  the  lit 
tle  house  full  and  busy  justifying  its  existence.  The 
miller's  son,  who  came  daily  to  chat  with  Marie,  was 
helping  in  the  kitchen.  By  the  warm  stove,  and  only 
kept  from  standing  over  it  by  Marie's  sharp  orders, 
were  as  many  men  as  could  get  near.  Each  held  a 
bowl  of  hot  soup,  and  —  that  being  a  good  day  —  a 
piece  of  bread.  Tall  soldiers  and  little  ones,  all  dirty, 


142    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

all  weary,  almost  all  smiling,  they  peered  over  each 
other's  shoulders,  to  catch,  if  might  be,  a  glimpse  of 
Marie's  face. 

When  they  came  too  close  she  poked  an  elbow  into 
some  hulking  fellow  and  sent  him  back. 

"  Elbow-room,  in  the  name  of  God,"  she  would  beg. 

Over  ail  the  room  hung  the  warm  steam  from  the 
kettles,  and  a  delicious  odor,  and  peace. 

Sara  Lee  had  never  heard  of  the  word  morale.  She 
would  have  been  astonished  to  have  been  told  that  she 
was  helping  the  morale  of  an  army.  But  she  gave  each 
night  in  that  little  house  of  mercy  something  that  noth 
ing  else  could  give  —  warmth  and  welcome,  but  above 
all  a  touch  of  home. 

That  night  Henri  did  not  come  back.  She  stood  by 
her  table  bandaging,  washing  small  wounds,  talking 
her  bits  of  French,  until  one  o'clock.  Then,  the  last 
dressing  done,  she  went  to  the  kitchen.  Marie  was 
there,  with  Maurice,  the  miller's  son. 

"  Has  the  captain  returned  ? >J  she  asked. 

"  Not  yet,  mademoiselle." 

"  Leave  a  warm  fire,"  Sara  Lee  said.  "  He  will 
probably  come  in  later." 

Maurice  went  away,  with  a  civil  good  night.  Sara 
Lee  stood  in  the  doorway  after  he  had  gone,  looking 
out.  Farther  along  the  line  there  was  a  bombardment 
going  on.  She  knew  now  what  a  bombardment  meant 
and  her  brows  contracted.  Somewhere  there  in  the 
trenches  men  were  enduring  that,  while  Henri 

She  said  a  little  additional  prayer  that  night,  which 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     143 

was  that  she  should  have  courage  to  say  to  him  what 
she  felt  —  that  there  were  big  things  to  do,  and  that  it 
should  not  all  be  left  to  these  smiling,  ill-clad  peasarr 
soldiers. 

At  that  moment  Henri,  in  his  gray-green  uniform, 
was  cutting  wire  before  a  German  trench,  one  of  a 
party  of  German  soldiers,  who  could  not  know  in  the 
darkness  that  there  had  been  a  strange  addition  to 
their  group.  Cutting  wire  and  learning  many  things 
which  it  was  well  that  he  should  know. 

Now  and  then,  in  perfect  German,  he  whispered  a 
question.  Always  he  received  a  reply.  And  stowed  it 
away  in  his  tenacious  memory  for  those  it  most  con 
cerned. 

At  daylight  he  was  asleep  by  Sara  Lee's  kitchen  fire. 
And  at  daylight  Sara  Lee  was  awakened  by  much 
firing,  and  putting  on  a  dressing  gown  she  went  out 
to  see  what  was  happening.  Rene  was  in  the  street 
looking  toward  the  poplar  trees. 

"  An  attack,"  he  said  briefly. 

"  You  mean  —  the  Germans  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

She  went  back  into  the  little  ruined  house,  heavy- 
hearted.  She  knew  now  what  it  meant,  an  attack. 
That  night  there  would  be  ambulances  in  the  street,  and 
word  would  come  up  that  certain  men  were  gone-^ 
would  never  seek  warmth  and  shelter  in  her  kitchen  or 
beg  like  children  for  a  second  bowl  of  soup. 

On  the  kitchen  floor  by  the  dying  fire  Henri  lay 
asleep. 


XIII 

MUCH  has  been  said  of  the  work  of  spies  —  saki 
and  written.  Here  is  a  woman  in  Paris  send 
ing  forbidden  messages  on  a  marked  coin.  Men  are 
tapped  on  the  shoulder  by  a  civil  gentleman  in  a  sack 
suit,  and  walk  away  with  him,  never  to  be  seen  again. 

But  of  one  sort  of  spy  nothing  has  been  written  and 
but  little  is  known.  Yet  by  him  are  battles  won  or 
lost.  On  the  intelligence  he  brings  attacks  are  pre 
pared  for  and  counter-attacks  launched.  It  is  not  al 
ways  the  airman,  in  these  days  of  camouflage,  who 
brings  word  of  ammunition  trains  or  of  new  batteries. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  war  the  work  of  the  secret 
service  at  the  Front  was  of  the  gravest  importance. 
There  were  fewer  air  machines,  and  observation  from 
the  air  was  a  new  science.  Also  trench  systems  were 
incomplete.  Between  them,  known  to  a  few,  were 
breaks  of  solid  land,  guarded  from  behind.  To  one 
who  knew,  it  was  possible,  though  dangerous  beyond 
words,  to  cross  the  inundated  country  that  lay  between 
the  Belgian  Front  and  the  German  lines,  and  even  with 
good  luck  to  go  farther. 

Henri,  for  instance,  on  that  night  before  had  left  the 
advanced  trench  at  the  railway  line,  had  crawled 
through  the  Belgian  barbed  wire,  and  had  advanced, 
standing  motionless  as  each  star  shell  burst  overhead, 
and  then  moving  on  quickly.  The  inundation  was  his 
greatest  difficulty.  Shallow  in  most  places,  it  was  full 

145 


146    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

of  hidden  wire  and  crisscrossed  with  irrigation  ditches. 
Once  he  stumbled  into  one,  but  he  got  out  by  swim 
ming.  Had  he  been  laden  with  a  rifle  and  equipment 
it  might  have  been  difficult. 

He  swore  to  himself  as  his  feet  touched  ground 
again.  For  a  star  shell  was  hanging  overhead,  and  his 
efforts  had  sent  wide  and  ever  increasingly  widening 
circles  over  the  placid  surface  of  the  lagoon.  Let  them 
lap  to  the  German  outposts  and  he  was  lost. 

Henri's  method  was  peculiar  to  himself.  Where 
there  was  dry  terrain  he  did  as  did  the  others,  crouched 
and  crept.  But  here  in  the  salt  marshes,  where  the  sea 
had  been  called  to  Belgium's  aid,  he  had  evolved  a 
system  of  moving,  neck  deep  in  water,  stopping  under 
the  white  night  lights,  advancing  in  the  darkness. 
There  was  no  shelter.  The  country  was  flat  as  a 
hearth. 

He  would  crawl  out  at  last  in  the  darkness  and  lie 
flat,  as  the  dead  lie.  And  then,  inch  by  inch,  he  would 
work  his  way  forward,  by  routes  that  he  knew. 
Sometimes  he  went  entirely  through  the  German  lines, 
and  reconnoitered  on  the  roads  behind.  They  were 
shallow  lines  then,  for  the  inundation  made  the  coun 
try  almost  untenable,  and  a  charge  in  force  from  the 
Belgians  across  was  unlikely. 

Henri  knew  his  country  well,  as  well  as  he  loved  it. 
In  a  farmhouse  behind  the  German  lines  he  sometimes 
doffed  his  wet  gray-green  uniform  and  put  on  the 
clothing  of  a  Belgian  peasant.  Trust  Henri  then  for 
being  a  lout,  a  simple  fellow  who  spoke  only  Flemish 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     147 

—  but  could  hear  in  many  tongues.  Watch  him  stand 
ing  at  crossroads  and  marveling  at  big  guns  that 
rumble  by. 

At  first  Henri  had  wished,  having  learned  of  an  at 
tack,  to  be  among  those  who  repelled  it.  Then  one  clay 
his  King  had  sent  for  him  to  come  to  that  little  vil 
lage  which  was  now  his  capital  city. 

He  had  been  sent  in  alone  and  had  found  the  King 
at  the  table,  writing.  Henri  bowed  and  waited.  They 
were  not  unlike,  these  two  men,  only  Henri  was 
younger  and  lighter,  and  where  the  King's  eyes  were 
gray  Henri's  were  blue.  Such  a  queer  setting  for  a 
king  it  was  —  a  tawdry  summer  home,  ill-heated  and 
cheaply  furnished.  But  by  the  presence  of  Belgium's 
man  of  all  time  it  became  royal. 

So  Henri  bowed  and  waited,  and  soon  the  King  got 
up  and  shook  hands  with  him.  As  a  matter  of  fact  they 
knew  each  other  rather  well,  but  to  explain  more  would 
be  to  tell  that  family  name  of  Henri's  which  must  never 
be  known. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  the  King  gravely.  And  he  got  a 
box  of  cigars  from  the  mantelpiece  and  offered  it. 
"  I  sent  for  you  because  I  want  to  talk  to  you.  You 
are  doing  valuable  work." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  it  so,  sire,"  said  Henri  rather 
unhappily,  because  he  felt  what  was  coming.  "  But  I 
cannot  do  it  all  the  time.  There  are  intervals " 

An  ordinary  mortal  may  not  interrupt  a  king,  but  a 
king  may  interrupt  anything,  except  perhaps  a  Ger 
man  bombardment. 


148    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  Intervals,  of  course.  If  there  were  not  you  would 
be  done  in  a  month." 

"  But  I  am  a  soldier.     My  place  is " 

"  Your  place  is  where  you  are  most  useful." 

Henri  was  getting  nothing  out  of  the  cigar.  He 
flung  it  away  and  got  up. 

"  I  want  to  fight  too/'  he  said  stubbornly.  "  We 
need  every  man,  and  I  am  —  rather  a  good  shot.  I 
do  this  other  because  I  can  do  it.  I  speak  their  infer 
nal  tongue.  But  it's  dirty  business  at  the  best,  sire." 
He  remembered  to  put  in  the  sire,  but  rather  ungra 
ciously.  Indeed  he  shot  it  out  like  a  bullet. 

"  Dirty  business !  "  said  the  King  thoughtfully.  "  I 
see  what  you  mean.  It  is,  of  course.  But  —  not  so 
dirty  as  the  things  they  have  done,  and  are  doing." 

He  sat  still  and  let  Henri  stamp  up  and  down,  be 
cause,  as  has  been  said,  he  knew  the  boy.  And  he  had 
never  been  one  to  insist  on  deference,  which  was  why 
he  got  so  much  of  it.  But  at  last  he  got  up  and  when 
Henri  stood  still,  rather  ashamed  of  himself,  he  put 
an  arm  over  the  boy's  shoulders. 

"  I  want  you  to  do  this  thing,  for  me.  And  this 
thing  only,"  he  said.  "  It  is  the  work  you  do  best. 
There  are  others  who  can  fight,  but  —  I  do  not  know 
any  one  else  who  can  do  as  you  have  done." 

Henri  promised.  He  would  have  promised  to  go 
out  and  drown  himself  in  the  sea,  just  beyond  the 
wind-swept  little  garden,  for  the  tall  grave  man  who 
stood  before  him.  Then  he  bowed  and  went  out,  and 
the  King  went  back  to  his  plain  pine  table  and  his  work. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     149 

That  was  the  reason  why  Sara  Lee  found  him 
asleep  on  the  floor  by  her  kitchen  stove  that  morning, 
and  went  back  to  her  cold  bed  to  lie  awake  and  think. 
But  no  explanation  came  to  her. 

The  arrival  of  Marie  roused  Henri.  The  worst  of 
the  bombardment  was  over,  but  there  was  far-away 
desultory  firing.  He  listened  carefully  before,  stand 
ing  outside  in  the  cold,  he  poured  over  his  head  and 
shoulders  a  pail  of  cold  water.  He  was  drying  him 
self  vigorously  when  he  heard  Sara  Lee's  voice  in  the 
kitchen. 

The  day  began  for  Henri  when  first  he  saw  the  girl. 
It  might  be  evening,  but  it  was  the  beginning  for  him. 
So  he  went  in  when  he  had  finished  his  toilet  and 
bowed  over  her  hand. 

"  You  are  cold,  mademoiselle." 

"  I  think  I  am  nervous.  There  was  an  attack  this 
morning." 

"Yes?" 

Marie  had  gone  into  the  next  room,  and  Sara  Lee 
raised  haggard  eyes  to  his.  « 

/'  Henri,"  she  said  desperately  —  it  was  the  first  time 
she  had  called  him  that  — "  I  have  something  to  say 
to  you,  and  it's  not  very  pleasant." 

"  You  are  going  home  ?  "  It  was  the  worst  thing 
he  could  think  of.  But  she  shook  her  head. 

"  You  will  think  me  most  ungrateful  and  unkind." 

"You?     Kindness  itself!" 

"  But  this  is  different.  It  is  not  for  myself.  It  is 
because  I  care  a  great  deal  about  —  about " 


150    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  Mademoiselle !  " 

"  About  your  honor.  And  somehow  this  morning, 
when  I  found  you  here  asleep,  and  those  poor  fellows 
in  the  trenches  fighting " 

Henri  stared  at  her.  So  that  was  it!  And  he 
could  never  tell  her.  He  was  sworn  to  secrecy  by 
every  tradition  and  instinct  of  his  work.  He  could 
never  tell  her,  and  she  would  go  on  thinking  him  a 
shirker  and  a  coward.  She  would  be  grateful.  She 
would  be  sweetness  itself.  But  deep  in  her  heart  she 
would  loathe  him,  as  only  women  can  hate  for  a  fail 
ing  they  never  forgive. 

"  But  I  have  told  you,"  he  said  rather  wildly,  "  I  am 
not  idle.  I  do  certain  things  —  not  much,  but  of  a 
degree  of  importance." 

"  You  do  not  fight." 

In  Sara  Lee's  defense  many  things  may  be  urged  — 
her  ignorance  of  modern  warfare ;  the  isolation  of  her 
lack  of  knowledge  of  the  language ;  but,  perhaps  more 
than  anything,  a  certain  rigidity  of  standard  that  com 
prehended  no  halfway  ground.  Right  was  right  and 
wrong  was  wrong  to  her  in  those  days.  Men  were 
brave  or  were  cowards.  Henri  was  worthy  or  un 
worthy.  And  she  felt  that,  for  all  his  kindness  to  her, 
he  was  unworthy. 

He  could  have  set  himself  right  with  a  word,  at  that. 
But  his  pride  was  hurt.  He  said  nothing  except,  when 
she  asked  if  he  had  minded  what  she  said,  to  reply: 
"  I  am  sorry  you  feel  as  you  do.  I  am  not  angry." 

He  went  away,  however,  without  breakfast.     Sara 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     151 

Lee  heard  his  car  going  at  its  usual  breakneck  speed 
up  the  street,  and  went  to  the  door.  She  would  have 
called  him  back  if  she  could,  for  his  eyes  haunted  her. 
But  he  did  not  look  back. 


XIV 

FOR  four  days  the  gray  car  did  not  come  again. 
Supplies  appeared  in  another  gray  car,  driven  by 
a  surly  Fleming.  The  waking  hours  were  full,  as 
usual.  Sara  Lee  grew  a  little  thin,  and  seemed  to  be 
always  listening.  But  there  was  no  Henri,  and  some 
thing  that  was  vivid  and  joyous  seemed  to  have  gone 
out  of  the  little  house. 

Even  Marie  no  longer  sang  as  she  swept  or  washed 
the  kettles,  and  Sara  Lee,  making  up  the  records  to 
send  home,  put  little  spirit  into  the  letter  that  went 
with  them. 

On  the  second  day  she  wrote  to  Harvey. 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  feel  as  you  do,"  she  wrote, 
perhaps  unconsciously  using  Henri's  last  words  to  her. 
"  I  have  not  meant  to  be  cruel.  And  if  you  were  here 
you  would  realize  that  whether  others  could  have  done 
what  I  am  doing  or  not  —  and  of  course  many  could 
—  it  is  worth  doing.  I  hear  that  other  women  are 
establishing  houses  like  this,  but  the  British  and  the 
French  will  not  allow  women  so  near  the  lines.  The 
men  come  in  at  night  from  the  trenches  so  tired,  so 
hungry  and  so  cold.  Some  of  them  are  wounded 
too.  I  dress  the  little  wounds.  I  do  give  them  some 
thing,  Harvey  dear  —  if  it  is  only  a  reminder  that 
there  are  homes  in  the  world,  and  everything  is  not 
mud  and  waiting  and  killing." 


154    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

She  told  him  that  his  picture  was  on  her  mantel, 
but  she  did  not  say  that  a  corner  of  her  room  had 
been  blown  away  or  that  the  mantel  was  but  a  plank 
from  a  destroyed  house.  And  she  sent  a  great  deal 
of  love,  but  she  did  not  say  that  she  no  longer  wore 
his  ring  on  her  finger.  And  of  course  she  was  coming 
back  to  him  if  he  still  wanted  her. 

More  than  Henri's  absence  was  troubling  Sara  Lee 
those  days.  Indeed  she  herself  laid  all  her  anxiety 
to  one  thing,  a  serious  one  at  that.  With  all  the  mar 
vels  of  Henri's  buying,  and  Jean's,  her  money  was 
not  holding  out.  The  scope  of  the  little  house  had 
grown  with  its  fame.  Now  and  then  there  were  unex 
pected  calls,  too  —  Marie's  mother,  starving  in  Havre ; 
sickness  and  death  in  the  little  town  at  the  crossroads : 
a  dozen  small  emergencies,  but  adding  to  the  demands 
on  her  slender  income.  She  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
already  begun  to  draw  on  her  private  capital. 

And  during  the  days  when  no  gray  car  appeared  she 
faced  the  situation,  took  stock,  as  it  were,  and  grew 
heavy-eyed  and  wistful. 

On  the  fifth  day  the  gray  car  came  again,  but  Jean 
drove  it  alone.  He  disclaimed  any  need  for  sympathy 
over  his  wound,  and  with  Rene's  aid  carried  in  the 
supplies. 

There  was  the  business  of  checking  them  off,  and 
the  further  business  of  Sara  Lee's  paying  for  them  in 
gold.  She  sat  at  the  table,  Jean  across,  and  struggled 
with  centimes  and  francs  and  louis  d'or,  an  engrossed 
frown  between  her  eyebrows. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     155 

Jean,  sitting  across,  thought  her  rather  changed. 
She  smiled  very  seldom,  and  her  eyes  were  perhaps 
more  steady.  It  was  a  young  girl  he  and  Henri  had 
brought  out  to  the  little  house.  It  was  a  very  serious 
and  rather  anxious  young  woman  who  sat  across  from 
him  and  piled  up  the  money  he  had  brought  back  into 
little  stacks. 

"  Jean,"  she  said  finally,  "  I  am  not  going  to  be  able 
to  do  it." 

"To  do  what?" 

"  To  continue  —  here." 

"No?" 

"  You  see  I  had  a  little  money  of  my  own,  and 
twenty  pounds  I  got  in  London.  You  and  —  and 
Henri  have  done  miracles  for  me.  But  soon  I  shall 
have  used  all  my  own  money,  except  enough  to  take  me 
back.  And  now  I  shall  have  to  start  on  my  English 
notes.  After  that " 

"  You  are  too  good  to  the  men.  These  cigarettes, 
now  —  you  could  do  without  them." 

"  But  they  are  very  cheap,  and  they  mean  so  much, 
Jean." 

She  sat  still,  her  hands  before  her  on  the  table. 
From  the  kitchen  came  the  bubbling  of  the  eternal 
soup.  Suddenly  a  tear  rolled  slowly  down  her  cheek. 
She  had  a  hatred  of  crying  in  public,  but  Jean  appar^ 
ently  did  not  notice. 

"  The  trouble,  mademoiselle,  is  that  you  are  trying 
to  feed  and  comfort  too  many." 

"  Jean,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  where  is  Henri  ?  " 


;i$6    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  In  England,  I  think." 

The  only  clear  thought  in  Sara  Lee's  mind  was  that 
Henri  was  not  in  France,  and  that  he  had  gone  without 
telling  her.  She  had  hurt  him  horribly.  She  knew 
that.  He  might  never  come  back  to  the  little  house  of 
mercy.  There  was,  in  Henri,  for  all  his  joyousness, 
an  implacable  strain.  And  she  had  attacked  his  honor. 
What  possible  right  had  she  to  do  that? 

The  memory  of  all  his  thoughtful  kindness  came 
back,  and  it  was  a  pale  and  distracted  Sara  Lee  who 
looked  across  the  table  at  Jean. 

"  Did  he  tell  you  anything?  " 

"  Nothing,  mademoiselle." 

"  He  is  very  angry  with  me,  Jean." 

"  But  surely  no,  mademoiselle.  With  you  ?  It  is 
impossible." 

But  though  they  said  nothing  more,  Jean  considered 
the  matter  deeply.  He  understood  now,  for  instance, 
a  certain  strangeness  in  Henri's  manner  before  his 
departure.  They  had  quarreled,  these  two.  Perhaps 
it  was  as  well,  though  Jean  was  by  now  a  convert  to 
Sara  Lee.  But  he  looked  out,  those  days,  on  but  half 
a  world,  did  Jean.  So  he  saw  only  the  woman  hunger 
in  Henri,  and  nothing  deeper.  And  in  Sara  Lee  a 
woman,  and  nothing  more. 

And  —  being  Jean  —  he  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

They  fell  to  discussing  ways  and  means.  The 
chocolate  could  be  cut  out,  but  not  the  cigarettes. 
Sara  Lee,  arguing  vehemently  for  them  and  trying  to 
forget  other  things,  remembered  suddenly  how  Uncle 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     157 

James  had  hated  cigarettes,  and  that  Harvey  himself 
disapproved  of  them.  Somehow  Harvey  seemed, 
those  days,  to  present  a  constant  figure  of  disapproval. 
He  gave  her  no  moral  support. 

At  Jean's  suggestion  she  added  to  her  report  of  so 
many  men  fed  with  soup,  so  much  tobacco,  sort  not 
specified,  so  many  small  wounds  dressed  —  a  request 
that  if  possible  her  allowance  be  increased.  She  did  it 
nervously,  but  when  the  letter  had  gone  she  felt  a  great 
relief.  She  inclosed  a  snapshot  of  the  little  house. 

Jean,  as  it  happens,  had  lied  about  Henri.  Not 
once,  but  several  times.  He  had  told  Marie,  for  in 
stance,  that  Henri  was  in  England,  and  later  on  he  told 
Rene.  Then,  having  done  his  errand,  he  drove  six 
miles  back  along  the  main  road  to  Dunkirk  and  picked 
up  Henri,  who  was  sitting  on  the  bank  of  a  canal 
watching  an  ammunition  train  go  by. 

Jean  backed  into  a  lane  and  turned  the  car  round. 
After  that  Henri  got  in  and  they  went  rapidly  back 
toward  the  Front.  It  was  a  different  Henri,  however, 
who  left  the  car  a  mile  from  the  crossroads  —  a  Henri 
in  the  uniform  of  a  French  private  soldier,  one  of  those 
odd  and  impracticable  uniforms  of  France  during 
the  first  year,  baggy  dark  blue  trousers,  stiff  cap, 
and  the  long-tailed  coat,  its  skirts  turned  back  and 
faced.  Round  his  neck  he  wore  a  knitted  scarf,  which 
covered  his  chin,  and,  true  to  the  instinct  of  the  French 
peasant  in  a  winter  campaign,  he  wore  innumerable 
Undergarments,  the  red  of  a  jersey  showing  through 
rents  in  his  coat. 


158    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Gone  were  Henri's  long  clean  lines,  his  small  waist 
and  broad  shoulders,  the  swing  of  his  wralk.  Instead, 
he  walked  with  the  bent-kneed  swing  of  the  French 
infantryman,  that  tireless  but  awkward  marching  step 
which  renders  the  French  Army  so  mobile. 

He  carried  all  the  impedimenta  of  a  man  going  into 
the  trenches,  an  extra  jar  of  water,  a  flat  loaf  of  bread 
strapped  to  his  haversack,  and  an  intrenching  tool 
jingling  at  his  belt. 

Even  Jean  smiled  as  he  watched  him  moving  along 
toward  the  crowded  crossroads  —  smiled  and  then 
sighed.  For  Jean  had  lost  everything  in  the  war. 
His  wife  had  died  of  a  German  bullet  long  months  be 
fore,  and  with  her  had  gone  a  child  much  prayed  for 
and  soon  to  come.  But  Henri  had  brought  back  to 
Jean  something  to  live  for  —  or  to  die  for,  as  might 
happen. 

Henri  walked  along  gayly.  He  hailed  other  French 
soldiers.  He  joined  a  handful  and  stood  talking  to 
them.  But  he  reached  the  crossroads  before  the  am 
munition  train. 

The  crossroads  was  crowded,  as  usual  —  many  sol 
diers,  at  rest,  waiting  for  the  word  to  fall  in,  a  bat 
tery  held  up  by  the  breaking  of  a  wheel.  A  temporary 
forge  had  been  set  up,  and  soldiers  in  leather  aprons 
were  working  over  the  fire.  A  handful  of  peasants 
watched,  their  dull  eyes  following  every  gesture.  And 
one  of  them  was  a  man  Henri  sought. 

Henri  sat  down  on  the  ground  and  lighted  a  ciga 
rette.  The  ammunition  train  rolled  in  and  halted,  and 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     159 

the  man  Henri  watched  turned  his  attention  to  the 
train.  He  had  been  dull  and  quiet  at  the  forge,  but 
now  he  became  smiling,  a  good  fellow.  He  found  a 
man  he  knew  among  the  drivers  and  offered  him  a 
cigarette.  He  also  produced  and  presented  an  entire 
box  of  matches.  Matches  were  very  dear,  and  hardly 
to  be  bought  at  any  price. 

Henri  watched  grimly  and  hummed  a  little  song : 

"  Trou  la  la,  ga  ne  va  guere; 
Trou  la  la,  $a  ne  va  pas." 

Still  humming  under  his  breath,  when  the  peasant 
left  the  crossroads  he  followed  him.  Not  closely.  The 
peasant  cut  across  the  fields.  Henri  followed  the  road 
and  entered  the  fields  at  a  different  angle.  He  knew 
his  way  quite  well,  for  he  had  done  the  same  thing 
each  day  for  four  days.  Only  twice  he  had  been  a  Bel 
gian  peasant,  and  once  he  was  an  officer,  and  once  he 
had  been  a  priest. 

Four  days  he  had  done  this  thing,  but  to-day  was 
different.  To-day  there  would  be  something  worth 
while,  he  fancied.  And  he  made  a  mental  note  that 
Sara  Lee  must  not  be  in  the  little  house  that  night. 

When  he  had  got  to  a  canal  where  the  pollard  wil 
lows  were  already  sending  out  vtheir  tiny  red  buds, 
Henri  sat  down  again.  The  village  lay  before  him, 
desolate  and  ruined,  a  travesty  of  homes.  And  on  a 
slight  rise,  but  so  concealed  from  him  by  the  willows 
that  only  the  great  wings  showed,  stood  the  windmill. 


160    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

It  was  the  noon  respite  then,  and  beyond  the  line  of 
poplars  all  was  quiet.  The  enemy  liked  time  for  food, 
and  the  Belgians,  crippled  by  the  loss  of  that  earlier 
train,  were  husbanding  their  ammunition.  Far  away 
a  gap  in  the  poplar  trees  showed  a  German  observation 
balloon,  a  tiny  dot  against  the  sky. 

The  man  Henri  watched  went  slowly,  for  he  carried 
a  bag  of  grain  on  his  back.  Henri  no  longed  watched 
him.  He  watched  the  wind  wheel.  It  had  been 
broken,  and  one  plane  was  now  patched  with  what 
looked  like  a  red  cloth.  There  was  a  good  wind,  but 
clearly  the  miller  was  idle  that  day.  The  great  wings 
were  not  turning. 

Henri  sat  still  and  smoked.  He  thought  of  many 
things  —  of  Sara  Lee's  eyes  when  in  the  center  of  the 
London  traffic  she  had  held  the  dying  donkey;  of  her 
small  and  radiant  figure  at  the  Savoy;  of  the  morning 
he  had  found  her  at  Calais,  in  the  Gare  Maritime, 
quietly  unconscious  that  she  had  done  a  courageous 
thing.  And  he  thought,  too,  of  the  ring  and  the  pho 
tograph  she  carried.  But  mostly  he  remembered  the 
things  she  had  said  to  him  on  their  last  meeting. 

Perhaps  there  came  to  him  his  temptation  too.  It 
would  be  so  easy  that  night,  if  things  went  well,  to 
make  a  brave  showing  before  her,  to  let  her  see  that 
these  odd  jobs  he  did  had  their  value  and  their  risks. 
But  he  put  that  from  him.  The  little  house  of  mercy 
must  be  empty  that  night,  for  her  sake.  He  shivered 
as  he  remembered  the  room  where  she  slept,  the  cor 
ner  that  was  shot  away  and  left  open  to  the  street 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     161 

So  he  sat  and  watched.  And  at  one  o'clock  the  mill 
wheel  began  turning.  It  was  easy  to  count  the  revo 
lutions  by  the  red  wing.  Nine  times  it  turned,  and 
stopped.  After  five  minutes  or  so  it  turned  again, 
thirty  times.  Henri  smiled :  an  ugly  smile. 

"  A  good  guess,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  But  it  must 
be  more  than  a  guess." 

His  work  for  the  afternoon  was  done.  Still  with 
the  bent-kneed  swing  he  struck  back  to  the  road,  and 
avoiding  the  crossroads,  went  across  more  fields  to  a 
lane  where  Jean  waited  with  the  car.  Henri  took  a 
plunge  into  the  canal  when  he  had  removed  his  French 
uniform,  and  producing  a  towel  from  under  a  bush 
rubbed  himself  dry.  His  lean  boyish  body  gleamed, 
arms  and  legs  brown  from  much  swimming  under 
peaceful  summer  suns.  On  his  chest  he  showed  two 
scars,  still  pink.  Shrapnel  bites,  he  called  them.  But 
he  had,  it  is  to  be  feared,  a  certain  young  satisfaction 
in  them. 

He  was  in  high  good  humor.  The  water  was  icy, 
and  Jean  had  refused  to  join  him. 

"  My  passion  for  cleanliness,"  Henri  said  blithely, 
"  is  the  result  of  my  English  school  days.  You  would 
have  been  the  better  for  an  English  education,  Jean." 

"  A  canal  in  March !  "  Jean  grunted.  "  You  will 
end  badly." 

Henri  looked  longingly  at  the  water. 

"  Had  I  a  dry  towel,"  he  said,  "  I  would  go  in 
again." 

Jean  looked  at  him  with  his  one  eye. 


1 62    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  You  would  be  prettier  without  those  scars,"  he 
observed.  But  in  his  heart  he  prayed  that  there  might 
be  no  others  added  to  them,  that  nothing  might  mar 
or  destroy  that  bright  and  youthful  body. 

"  Depechez-vous!  Vous  sommes  presses! "  he 
added. 

But  Henri  was  minded  to  play.  He  girded  himself 
with  the  towel  and  struck  an  attitude. 

"The  Russian  ballet,  Jean!  "  he  said,  and  capering 
madly  sent  Jean  into  deep  grumbles  of  laughter  by  his 
burlesque. 

"  I  must  have  exercise,"  Henri  said  at  last  when, 
breathless  and  with  flying  hair,  he  began  to  dress. 
"  That,  too,  is  my  English  schooling.  If  you, 
jean " 

"To  the  devil  wfth  your  English  schooling!  "  Jean 
remonstrated. 

Henri  sobered  quickly  after  that.  The  exhilaration 
of  his  cold  plunge  was  over. 

"The  American  lady?"  he  asked.  "She  is  all 
right  ?" 

"  She  is  worried.     There  is  not  enough  money." 

Henri  frowned. 

"And  I  have  nothing !" 

This  opened  up  an  old  wound  with  Jean. 

"If  you  would  be  practical  and  take  pay  for  what 
you  are  doing,"  he  began. 

Henri  cut  him  short. 

"  Pay !  "  he  said.  "  What  is  there  to  pay  me  with  ? 
And  what  is  the  use  of  reopening  the  matter  ?  A  man 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     163 

may  be  a  spy  for  love  of  his  country.  God  knows 
there  is  enough  lying  and  deceit  in  the  business.  But 
to  be  a  spy  for  money  —  never !  " 

There  was  a  little  silence.  Then :  "  Now  for  made 
moiselle,"  said  Henri.  "  She  must  be  out  of  the  vil 
lage  to-night.  And  that,  dear  friend,  must  be  your 
affair.  She  does  not  like  me." 

All  the  life  had  gone  out  of  his  voice. 


XV 

"  r>  UT  why  should  I  go  ?  "  Sara  Lee  asked.     "  It  is 

*-*  kind  of  you  to  ask  me,  Jean.  But  I  am  here 
to  work,  not  to  play." 

Long  ago  Sara  Lee  had  abandoned  her  idea  of  Jean 
as  a  paid  chauffeur.  She  even  surmised,  from  some 
thing  Marie  had  said,  that  he  had  been  a  person  of 
importance  in  the  Belgium  of  before  the  war.  So  she 
was  grateful,  but  inclined  to  be  obstinate. 

"  .You  have  been  so  much  alone,  mademoiselle " 

"Alone!" 

"  Cut  off  from  your  own  kind.  And  now  and  then 
one  finds,  at  the  hotel  in  Dunkirk,  some  English  nurses 
who  are  having  a  holiday.  You  would  like  to  talk  to 
them  perhaps." 

"  Jean,"  she  said  unexpectedly,  "  why  don't  you  tell 
me  the  truth?  You  want  me  to  leave  the  village  to 
night.  Why?" 

"  Because,  mademoiselle,  there  will  be  a  bombard 
ment" 

"The  village  itself?" 

"  We  expect  it,"  he  answered  dryly. 

Sara  Lee  went  a  little  pale. 

"  But  then  I  shall  be  needed,  as  I  was  before." 

"  No  troops  will  pass  through  the  town  to-night. 
They  will  take  a  road  beyond  the  fields." 

165 


1 66    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  How  do  you  know  these  things?  "  she  asked,  won 
dering.  "About  the  troops  I  can  understand.  But 
the  bombardment." 

"  There  are  ways  of  finding  out,  mademoiselle/1  he 
replied  in  his  noncommittal  voice.  "  Now,  will  you 
go?" 

May  I  tell  Marie  and  Rene?  " 


u 

"  No." 

M 


Then  I  shall  not  go.  How  can  you  think  that  I 
would  consider  my  own  safety  and  leave  them  here?  " 

Jean  had  ascertained  before  speaking  that  Marie  was 
not  in  the  house.  As  for  Rene,  he  sat  on  the  single 
doorstep  and  whittled  pegs  on  which  to  hang  his  rifle 
inside  the  door.  And  as  he  carved  he  sang  words  of 
his  own  to  the  tune  of  Tipperary. 

Inside  the  little  salle  &  manger  Jean  reassured  Sara 
Lee.  It  was  important  —  vital  —  that  Rene  and  Marie 
should  not  know  far  in  advance  of  the  bombardment. 
They  were  loyal,  certainly,  but  these  were  his  orders. 
In  abundance  of  time  they  would  be  warned  to  leave  the 
village. 

"  Who  is  to  warn  them?  " 

"  Henri  has  promised,  mademoiselle.  And  what  he 
promises  is  done." 

"  You  said  this  morning  that  he  was  in  England." 

"  He  has  returned." 

Sara  Lee's  heart,  which  had  been  going  along 
/nerely  as  a  matter  of  duty  all  day,  suddenly  began 
to  beat  faster.  Her  color  came  up,  and  then  faded 
Again.  He  had  returned,  and  he  had  not  come  to  the 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     167 

little  house.  But  then  —  what  could  Henri  mean  to 
her,  his  coming  or  his  going?  Was  she  to  add  to  her 
other  sins  against  Harvey  the  supreme  one  of  being 
interested  in  Henri? 

Not  that  she  said  all  that,  even  to  herself.  There 
was  a  wave  of  gladness  and  then  a  surge  of  remorse. 
That  is  all.  But  it  was  a  very  sober  Sara  Lee  who 
put  on  her  black  suit  with  the  white  collar  that  after 
noon  and  ordered,  by  Jean's  suggestion,  the  evening's 
preparations  as  though  nothing  was  to  happen. 

She  looked  round  her  little  room  before  she  left  it. 
It  might  not  be  there  when  she  returned.  So  she 
placed  Harvey's  photograph  under  her  mattress  for 
safety,  and  rather  uncomfortably  she  laid  beside  it 
the  small  ivory  crucifix  that  Henri  had  found  in  a 
ruined  house  and  brought  to  her.  Harvey  was  not  a 
Catholic.  He  did  not  believe  in  visualizing  his  reli 
gion.  And  she  had  a  distinct  impression  that  he  con 
sidered  such  things  as  did  so  as  bordering  on  idolatry. 

Sometime  after  dusk  that  evening  the  ammunition 
train  moved  out.  At  a  point  a  mile  or  so  from  the 
village  a  dispatch  rider  on  a  motor  cycle  stopped  the 
rumbling  lorry  at  the  head  of  the  procession  and  deliv 
ered  a  message,  which  the  guide  read  by  the  light  of  a 
sheltered  match.  The  train  moved  on,  but  it  did  not 
turn  down  to  the  village.  It  went  beyond  to  a  place 
of  safety,  and  there  remained  for  the  night. 

But  before  that  time  Henri,  lying  close  in  a  field, 
had  seen  a  skulking  figure  run  from  the  road  to  the 
mill,  and  soon  after  had  seen  the  mill  wheel  turn  once, 


1 68    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

describing  a  great  arc ;  and  on  one  of  the  wings,  show 
ing  only  toward  the  poplar  trees,  was  a  lighted  lantern. 

Five  minutes  later,  exactly  time  enough  for  the 
train  to  have  reached  the  village  street,  German  shells 
began  to  fall  in  it.  Henri,  lying  flat  on  the  ground, 
swore  silently  and  deeply. 

In  every  land  during  this  war  there  have  been  those 
who  would  sell  their  country  for  a  price.  Sometimes 
money.  Sometimes  protection.  And  of  all  betrayals 
that  of  the  man  who  sells  his  own  country  is  the  most 
dastardly.  Henri,  lying  face  down,  bit  the  grass  be 
neath  him  in  sheer  rage. 

One  thing  he  had  not  counted  on,  he  who  foresaw 
most  things.  The  miller  and  his  son,  being  what  they 
were,  were  cowards  as  well.  Doubtless  the  mill  had 
been  promised  protection.  It  was  too  valuable  to  the 
Germans  to  be  destroyed.  But  with  the  first  shot 
both  men  left  the  house  by  the  mill  and  scurried  like 
rabbits  for  the  open  fields. 

Maurice,  poor  Marie's  lover  by  now,  almost  tram 
pled  on  Henri's  prostrate  body.  And  Henri  was 
alone,  and  his  work  was  to  take  them  alive.  They 
had  information  he  must  have  —  how  the  modus 
Vivendi  had  been  arranged,  through  what  channels. 
And  under  suitable  treatment  they  would  tell. 

He  could  not  follow  them  through  the  fields.  He 
lay  still,  during  a  fiercer  bombardment  than  the  one 
before,  raising  his  head  now  and  then  to  see  if  the  lit 
tle  house  of  mercy  still  stood.  No  shells  came  his 
way,  but  the  sky  line  of  the  village  altered  quickly. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     169 

The  standing  fragment  of  the  church  towers  went 
early.  There  was  much  sound  of  falling  masonry. 
From  somewhere  behind  him  a  Belgian  battery  gave 
tongue,  but  not  for  long.  And  then  came  silence. 

Henri  moved  then.  He  crept  nearer  the  mill  and 
nearer.  And  at  last  he  stood  inside  and  took  his  bear 
ings.  A  lamp  burned  in  the  kitchen,  showing  a  dirty 
brick  floor  and  a  littered  table  —  such  a  house  as  men 
keep,  untidy  and  unhomelike.  A  burnt  kettle  stood 
on  the  hearth,  and  leaning  against  the  wall  was  the 
bag  of  grain  Maurice  had  carried  from  the  crossroads. 

"  A  mill  which  grinds  without  grain/'  Henri  said  to 
himself. 

There  was  a  boxed-in  staircase  to  the  upper  floor, 
and  there,  with  the  door  slightly  ajar,  he  stationed 
himself,  pistol  in  hand.  Now  and  then  he  glanced 
uneasily  at  the  clock.  Sara  Lee  must  not  be  back  be 
fore  he  had  taken  his  prisoners  to  the  little  house  and 
turned  them  over  to  those  who  waited  there. 

There  were  footsteps  outside,  and  Henri  drew  the 
door  a  little  closer.  But  he  was  dismayed  to  find  it 
Marie.  She  crept  in,  a  white  and  broken  thing,  and 
looked  about  her. 

"  Maurice !  "  she  called. 

She  sat  down  for  a  moment,  and  then,  seeing  the 
disorder  about  her,  set  to  work  to  clear  the  table.  It 
was  then  that  Henri  lowered  his  pistol  and  opened  the 
door. 

"  Don't  shriek,  Marie,"  he  said. 

She  turned  and  saw  him,  and  clutched  at  the  table. 


170    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

11  Monsieur!" 

"  Marie,"  he  said  quietly,  "  go  up  these  stairs  and 
remain  quiet.  Do  not  walk  round.  And  do  not  come 
down,  no  matter  what  you  hear !  " 

She  obeyed  him,  stumbling  somewhat.  For  she  had 
seen  his  revolver,  and  it  frightened  her.  But  as  she 
passed  him  she  clutched  at  his  sleeve. 

"  He  is  good  —  Maurice,"  she  said,  gasping.  "  Of 
the  father  I  know  nothing,  but  Maurice " 

"  Go  up  and  be  silent !  "  was  all  he  said. 

Now,  by  all  that  goes  to  make  a  story,  Sara  Lee 
should  have  met  Mabel  at  the  Hotel  des  Arcades  in 
Dunkirk,  and  should  have  been  able  to  make  that  effi 
cient  young  woman  burn  with  jealousy  —  Mabel,  who 
from  the  safety  of  her  hospital  in  Boulogne  considered 
Dunkirk  the  Front. 

Indeed  Sara  Lee,  to  whom  the  world  was  beginning 
to  seem  very  small,  had  had  some  such  faint  hope. 
But  Mabel  was  not  there,  and  it  was  not  until  long 
after  that  they  met  at  all,  and  then  only  when  the  lights 
had  gone  down  and  Sara  Lee  was  again  knitting  by  the 
fire. 

There  were  a  few  nurses  there,  in  their  white  veils 
with  the  red  cross  over  the  forehead,  and  one  or  two 
Englishwomen  in  hats  that  sat  a  trifle  too  high  on  the 
tops  of  their  heads  and  with  long  lists  before  them 
which  they  checked  as  they  ate.  Aviators  in  leather 
coats;  a  few  Spahis  in  cloak  and  turban,  with  full- 
gathered  bloomers  and  high  boots ;  some  American  am 
bulance  drivers,  rather  noisy  and  very  young:  and 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     171 

many  officers,  in  every  uniform  of  the  Allied  armies 
—  sat  at  food  together  and  for  a  time  forgot  their 
anxieties  under  the  influence  of  lights,  food  and 
warmth,  and  red  and  white  wine  mixed  with  water. 

When  he  chose,  Jean  could  be  a  delightful  compan 
ion;  not  with  Henri's  lift  of  spirits,  but  quietly  inter 
esting.  And  that  evening  he  was  a  new  Jean  to  Sara 
Lee,  a  man  of  the  world,  talking  of  world  affairs.  He 
found  her  apt  and  intelligent,  and  for  Sara  Lee  much 
that  had  been  clouded  cleared  up  forever  that  night. 
Until  then  she  had  known  only  the  humanities  of  the 
war,  or  its  inhumanities.  There,  over  that  little  table, 
she  learned  something  of  its  politics  and  its  inevitabil 
ity.  She  had  been  working  in  the  dark,  with  her  heart 
only.  Now  she  began  to  grasp  the  real  significance  of 
it  all,  of  Belgium's  anxiety  for  many  years,  of  Ger 
many's  cold  and  cruel  preparation,  and  empty  protests 
of  friendship.  She  learned  of  the  flight  of  the  gov 
ernment  from  Brussels,  the  most  important  state 
papers  being  taken  away  in  a  hand  cart,  on  top  of 
which,  at  the  last  moment,  some  flustered  official  had 
placed  a  tall  silk  hat!  She  learned  of  the  failure  of 
great  fortifications  before  the  invaders'  heavy  guns. 
And  she  had  drawn  for  her  such  a  picture  of  Albert  of 
Belgium  as  she  was  never  to  forget. 

Perhaps  Sara  Lee's  real  growth  began  that  night, 
over  that  simple  dinner  at  the  Hotel  des  Arcades. 

"  I  wish,"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  Uncle  James  could 
have  heard  all  this.  He  was  always  so  puzzled  about 
it  all.  And  —  you  make  it  so  clear." 


172    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

When  dinner  was  over  a  bit  of  tension  had  relaxed 
in  her  somewhat.  She  had  been  too  close,  for  too 
long.  And  when  a  group  of  Belgian  officers,  learning 
who  she  was,  asked  to  be  presented  and  gravely 
thanked  her,  she  flushed  with  happiness. 

"  We  must  see  if  mademoiselle  shall  not  have  a 
medal,"  said  the  only  one  who  spoke  English. 

"A  medal?     For  what?" 

"  For  courage,"  he  said,  bowing.  "  Belgium  has 
little  to  give,  but  it  can  at  least  do  honor  to  a  brave 
lady." 

Jean  was  smiling  when  they  passed  on.  What  a 
story  would  this  slip  of  a  girl  take  home  with  her! 

But :  "  I  don't  think  I  want  a  medal,  Jean,"  she 
said.  "  I  didn't  come  for  that.  And  after  all  it  is  you 
and  Henri  who  have  done  the  thing  —  not  I." 

Accustomed  to  women  of  a  more  sophisticated  class, 
Jean  had  at  first  taken  her  naivete  for  the  height  of 
subtlety.  He  was  always  expecting  her  to  betray  her 
self.  But  after  that  evening  with  her  he  changed. 
Just  such  simplicity  had  been  his  wife's.  Sometimes 
Sara  Lee  reminded  him  of  her  —  the  upraising  of  her 
eyes  or  an  unstudied  gesture. 

He  sighed. 

"  You  are  very  wonderful,  you  Americans,"  he  said. 
It  was  the  nearest  to  a  compliment  that  he  had  ever 
come.  And  after  that  evening  he  was  always  very 
gentle  with  her.  Once  he  had  protected  her  because 
Henri  had  asked  him  to  do  so;  now  he  himself  became 
in  his  silent  way  her  protector. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     173 

The  ride  home  through  the  dark  was  very  quiet. 
Sara  Lee  sat  beside  him  watching  the  stars  and  grow 
ing  increasingly  anxious  as  they  went,  not  too  rapidly, 
toward  the  little  house.  There  were  no  lights.  Air 
raids  had  grown  common  in  Dunkirk,  and  there  were 
no  street  lights  in  the  little  city.  Once  on  the  highway 
Jean  lighted  the  lamps,  but  left  them  very  low,  and 
two  miles  from  the  little  house  he  put  them  out  alto 
gether.  They  traveled  by  starlight  then,  following 
as  best  they  could  the  tall  trees  that  marked  the  road. 
Now  and  then  they  went  astray  at  that,  and  once  they 
tilted  into  the  ditch  and  had  hard  pulling  to  get  out. 

At  the  top  of  the  street  Jean  stopped  and  went  on 
foot  a  little  way  down.  He  came  back,  with  the  report 
that  new  shells  had  made  the  way  impassable;  and 
again  Sara  Lee  shivered.  If  the  little  house  was  gone ! 

But  it  was  there,  and  lighted  too.  Through  its 
broken  shutters  came  the  yellow  glow  of  the  oil  lamp 
that  now  hung  over  the  table  in  the  salle  a  manger. 

Whatever  Jean's  anxieties  had  been  fell  from  him 
as  he  pushed  open  the  door.  Henri's  voice  was  the 
first  thing  they  heard.  He  was  too  much  occupied  to 
notice  their  approach. 

So  it  was  that  Sara  Lee  saw,  for  the  last  time,  the 
miller  and  his  son,  Maurice;  saw  them,  but  did  not 
know  them,  for  over  their  heads  were  bags  of  their 
own  sacking,  with  eyeholes  roughly  cut  in  them. 
Their  hands  were  bound,  and  three  soldiers  were  wait 
ing  to  take  them  away. 

"  I  have  covered  your  heads,"  Henri  was  saying  in 


174    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

French,  "  because  it  is  not  well  that  our  brave  Belgians 
should  know  that  they  have  been  betrayed  by  those  of 
their  own  number." 

It  was  a  cold  and  terrible  Henri  who  spoke. 

"  Take  them  away,"  he  said  to  the  waiting  men. 

A  few  moments  later  he  turned  from  the  door  and 
heard  Sara  Lee  sobbing  in  her  hoom.  He  tapped,  and 
on  receiving  no  reply  he  went  in.  The  room  was  un 
harmed,  and  by  the  light  of  a  candle  he  saw  the  girl, 
face  down  on  the  bed.  He  spoke  to  her,  but  she  only 
lay  crouched  deeper,  her  shoulders  shaking. 

"  It  is  war,  mademoiselle,"  he  said,  and  went  closer. 
Then  suddenly  all  the  hurt  of  the  past  days,  all  the  bit 
terness  of  the  last  hour,  were  lost  in  an  overwhelming 
burst  of  tenderness. 

He  bent  over  her  and  put  his  arms  round  her. 

"  That  I  should  have  hurt  you  so !  "  he  said  softly. 
"  I,  who  would  die  for  you,  mademoiselle.  I  who  wor 
ship  you."  He  buried  his  face  in  the  warm  hollow  of 
her  neck  and  held  her  close.  He  was  trembling.  "  I 
love  you,"  he  whispered.  "  I  love  you." 

She  quieted  under  his  touch.  He  was  very  strong, 
and  there  was  refuge  in  his  arms.  For  a  moment  she 
lay  still,  happier  than  she  had  been  for  weeks.  It  was 
Henri  who  was  shaken  now  and  the  girl  who  was  still. 

But  very  soon  came  the  thing  that,  after  all,  he  ex 
pected.  She  drew  herself  away  from  him,  and  Henri, 
sensitive  to  every  gesture,  stood  back. 

"Who  are  they?"  was  the  first  thing  she  said.  It 
rather  stabbed  him.  He  had  just  told  her  that  he 


"THAT  i  SHOULD  HAVE  HURT  YOU  so!"  HE  SAID  SOFTLY 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     175 

loved  her,  and  never  before  in  his  careless  young  life 
had  he  said  that  to  any  woman. 

•'  Spies,"  he  said  briefly. 

A  flushed  and  tearful  Sara  Lee  stood  up  then  and 
looked  up  at  him  gravely. 

"  Then  —  that  iz  what  you  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle." 

Quite  suddenly  she  went  to  him  and  held  up  her 
face. 

"  Please  kiss  me,  Henri,"  she  said  very  simply.  "  I 
have  been  cruel  and  stupid,  and " 

But  he  had  her  in  his  arms  then,  and  he  drew  her 
close  as  though  he  would  never  let  her  go.  He  was 
one  great  burst  of  joy,  poor  Henri.  But  when  she 
gently  freed  herself  at  last  it  was  to  deliver  what 
seemed  for  a  time  his  death  wound. 

"  You  have  pairA  me  a  great  tribute,"  she  said,  still 
simply  and  gravely.  "  I  wanted  you  to  kiss  me,  be 
cause  of  what  you  said.  But  that  will  have  to  be  all, 
Henri  dear." 

"All?  "he  said  blankly. 

"  You  haven't  forgotten,  have  you  ?  I  —  I  am  en 
gaged  to  somebody  else." 

Henri  stood  still,  swaying  a  little. 

"  And  you  love  him  ?     More  than  you  care  for  me  ?  " 

"  He  is  —  he  is  my  kind,"  said  Sara  Lee  rather  piti 
fully.  "  I  am  not  what  you  think  me.  You  see  me 
here,  doing  what  you  think  is  good  work,  and  you  are 
grateful.  And  you  don't  see  any  other  women.  So 


176    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  And  you  think  I  love  you  because  I  see  no  one 
else  ?  "  he  demanded,  still  rather  stunned. 

"  Isn't  that  part  of  it?" 

He  flung  out  his  hands  as  though  he  despaired  of 
making  her  understand. 

"This  man  at  home "  he  said  bitterly;  "this 

man  who  loves  you  so  well  that  he  let  you  cross  the 
sea  and  come  here  alone  —  ^o  you  love  him  very 
dearly?" 

"  I  am  promised  to  him." 

All  at  once  Sara  Lee  saw  the  little  parlor  at  home, 
and  Harvey,  gentle,  rather  stolid  and  dependable.  Oh, 
very  dependable.  She  saw  him  as  he  had  looked  the 
night  he  had  said  he  loved  her,  rather  wistful  and  very, 
very  tender.  She  could  not  hurt  him  so.  She  had 
said  she  was  going  back  to  him,  and  she  must  go. 

"  I  love  him  very  much,  Henri." 

Very  quietly,  considering  the  hell  that  was  raging 
in  him,  Henri  bent  over  and  kissed  her  hand.  Then  he 
turned  it  over,  and  for  an  instant  he  held  his  cheek 
against  its  warmth.  He  went  out  at  once,  and  Sara 
Lee  heard  the  door  slam. 


XVI 

TIME  passed  quickly,  as  always  it  does  when  there 
is  work  to  do.     Round  the  ruined  houses  the 
gray  grass  turned  green  again,  and  in  travesties  of 
gardens  early  spring  flowers  began  to  show  a  touch  of 
color. 

The  first  of  them  greeted  Sara  Lee  one  morning  as 
she  stood  on  her  doorstep  in  the  early  sun.  She  gath 
ered  them  and  placed  them,  one  on  each  grave,  in  the 
cemetery  near  the  poplar  trees,  where  small  wooden 
crosses,  sometimes  surmounted  by  a  cap,  marked  many 
graves. 

Marie,  a  silent  subdued  Marie,  worked  steadily  in  the 
little  house.  She  did  not  weep,  but  now  and  then  Sara 
Lee  found  her  stirring  something  on  the  stove  and 
looking  toward  the  quiet  mill  in  the  fields.  And  once 
Sara  Lee,  surprising  that  look  on  her  face,  put  her  arms 
about  the  girl  and  held  her  for  a  moment.  But  she 
did  not  say  anything.  There  was  nothing  to  say. 

With  the  opening  up  of  the  spring  came  increased 
movement  and  activity  among  the  troops.  The  beach 
and  the  sand  dunes  round  La  Panne  were  filled  with 
drilling  men,  Belgium's  new  army.  Veterans  of  the 
winter,  at  rest  behind  the  lines,  sat  in  the  sun  and 
pared  potatoes  for  the  midday  meal.  Convalescents 
from  the  hospital  appeared  in  motley  garments  from 

177 


178    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

the  Ambulance  Ocean  and  walked  along  the  water 
front,  where  the  sea,  no  longer  gray  and  sullen,  rolled 
up  in  thin  white  lines  of  foam  to  their  very  feet. 
Winter  straw  came  out  of  wooden  sabots.  Winter- 
bitten  hands  turned  soft.  Canal  boats  blossomed  out 
with  great  washings.  And  the  sentry  at  the  gun  em 
placement  in  the  sand  up  the  beach  gave  over  gather 
ing  sticks  for  his  fire,  and  lay,  when  no  one  was  about, 
in  a  hollow  in  the  dune,  face  to  the  sky. 

So  spring  came  to  that  small  fragment  of  Belgium 
which  had  been  saved  —  spring  and  hope.  Soon  now 
the  great  and  powerful  Allies  would  drive  out  the 
Huns,  and  all  would  be  as  it  had  been.  Splendid 
rumors  were  about.  The  Germans  were  already 
yielding  at  La  Bassee.  There  was  to  be  a  great  drive 
along  the  entire  Front,  and  hopefully  one  would  return 
home  in  time  for  the  spring  planting. 

A  sort  of  informal  council  took  place  occasionally 
in  the  little  house.  Maps  replaced  the  dressings  on  the 
table  in  the  salle  a  manger,  and  junior  officers,  armed 
with  Sara  Lee's  box  of  pins,  thrust  back  the  enemy  at 
various  points  and  proved  conclusively  that  his  posi 
tion  was  untenable.  They  celebrated  these  paper  vic 
tories  with  Sara  Lee's  tea,  and  went  away  the  better 
for  an  hour  or  so  of  hope  and  tea  and  a  girl's  soft  voice 
and  quiet  eyes. 

Now  and  then  there  was  one,  of  course,  who  lagged 
behind  his  fellows,  with  a  yearning  tenderness  in  his 
face  that  a  glance  from  the  girl  would  have  quickly 
turned  to  love.  But  Sara  Lee  had  no  coquetry. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    179 

When,  as  occasionally  happened,  there  was  a  bit  too 
much  fervor  when  her  hand  was  kissed,  she  laid  it 
where  it  belonged  —  to  loneliness  and  the  spring  — 
and  became  extremely  maternal  and  very,  very  kind. 
Which  —  both  of  them  —  are  death  blows  to  young 
love. 

The  winter  floods  were  receding.  Along  the  Yser 
Canal  mud-caked  flats  began  to  appear,  with  here  and 
there  rusty  tangles  of  barbed  wire.  And  with  the  les 
sening  of  the  flood  came  new  activities  to  the  little 
house.  The  spring  drive  was  coming. 

There  was  spring  indeed,  everywhere  but  in  Henri's 
heart. 

Day  after  day  messages  were  left  with  Sara  Lee  by 
men  in  uniform  —  sometimes  letters,  sometimes  a 
word.  And  these  she  faithfully  cared  for  until  such 
time  as  Jean  came  for  them.  Now  and  then  it  was 
Henri  who  came,  but  when  he  stayed  in  the  village  he 
made  his  headquarters  at  the  house  of  the  mill.  There, 
with  sacking  over  the  windows,  he  wrote  his  reports 
by  lamplight,  reports  which  Jean  carried  back  to  the 
villa  in  the  fishing  village  by  the  sea. 

However,  though  he  no  longer  came  and  went  as  be 
fore,  Henri  made  frequent  calls  at  the  house  of  mercy. 
But  now  he  came  in  the  evenings,  when  the  place  was 
full  of  men.  Sara  Lee  was  doing  more  dressings  than 
before.  The  semi-armistice  of  winter  was  over,  and 
there  were  nights  when  a  row  of  wounded  men  lay  on 
the  floor  in  the  little  salle  a  manger  and  waited,  in  a 
sort  of  dreadful  quiet,  to  be  taken  away. 


i8o    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Rumors  came  of  hard  fighting  farther  along  the 
line,  and  sometimes,  on  nights  when  the  clouds  hung 
low,  the  flashes  of  the  guns  at  Ypres  looked  like  in 
cessant  lightning.  From  the  sand  dunes  at  Nieuport 
and  Dixmude  there  was  firing  also,  and  the  air  seemed 
sometimes  to  be  full  of  scouting  planes. 

The  Canadians  were  moving  toward  the  Front  at 
Neuve  Chapelle  at  that  time.  And  one  day  a  lorry, 
piled  high  with  boxes,  rolled  and  thumped  down  the 
street,  and  halted  by  Rene. 

"  Rather  think  we  are  lost,"  explained  the  driver, 
grinning  sheepishly  at  Rene. 

There  were  four  boys  in  khaki  on  the  truck,  and  not 
a  word  of  French  among  them.  Sara  Lee,  who  rolled 
her  own  bandages  now,  heard  the  speech  and  came  out. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  she  said,  and  gave  an  alarmed 
glance  at  the  sky.  But  it  was  the  noon  hour,  when 
every  good  German  abandons  war  for, food,  and  the 
sky  was  empty. 

The  boys  cheered  perceptibly.  Here  was  at  last 
some  one  who  spoke  a  Christian  tongue. 

"  Must  have  taken  the  wrong  turning,  miss,"  said 
one  of  them,  saluting. 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?  "  she  asked.  "  You 
are  very  close  to  the  Belgian  Front  here.  It  is  not  at 
all  safe." 

They  all  saluted ;  then,  staring  at  her  curiously,  told 
her. 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  Sara  Lee.  "  You  are  a  long  way 
off.  And  a  long  way  from  home  too." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    181 

They  smiled.  They  looked,  with  their  clean-haven 
faces,  absurdly  young  after  the  bearded  Belgian  sol 
diers. 

"  I  am  an  American,  too,"  said  Sara  Lee  with  just  a 
touch  of  homesickness  in  her  voice.  She  had  been 
feeling  lonely  lately.  "If  you  have  time  to  come  in 
I  could  give  you  luncheon.  Rene  can  tell  us  if  any 
German  air  machines  come  over." 

Would  they  come  in?  Indeed,  yes!  They  crawled 
down  off  the  lorry,  and  took  off  their  caps,  and  ate 
every  particle  of  food  in  the  house.  And,  though  they 
were  mutely  curious  at  first,  soon  they  were  asking 
questions.  How  long  had  she  been  there?  What  did 
she  do?  Wasn't  it  dangerous? 

"  Not  so  dangerous  as  it  looks,"  said  Sara  Lee,  smil 
ing.  "  The  Germans  seldom  bother  the  town  now. 
It  is  not  worth  while." 

Later  on  they  went  over  the  house.  They  climbed 
the  broken  staircase  and  stared  toward  the  break  in  the 
poplar  trees,  from  the  roofless  floor  above. 

"  Some  girl ! "  one  of  them  said  in  an  undertone. 

The  others  were  gazing  intently  toward  the  Front. 
Never  before  had  they  been  so  close.  Never  had  they 
seen  a  ruined  town.  War,  until  now,  had  been  a 
thing  of  Valcartier,  of  a  long  voyage,  of  much  drill  in 
the  mud  at  Salisbury  Plain.  Now  here  they  saw,  at 
their  feet,  what  war  could  do. 

"  Damn  them !  "  said  one  of  the  boys  suddenly. 
"  Fellows,  we'll  get  back  at  them  soon." 

So  they  went  away,  a  trifle  silent  and  very  grateful. 


182    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

But  before  they  left  they  had  a  glimpse  of  Sara  Lee's 
room,  with  the  corner  gone,  and  Harvey's  picture  on 
the  mantel. 

"  Some  girl ! "  they  repeated  as  they  drove  up  the 
street.  It  was  the  tribute  of  inarticulate  youth. 

Sara  Lee  went  back  to  her  bandages  and  her 
thoughts.  She  had  not  a  great  deal  of  time  to  think, 
what  with  the  officers  stopping  in  to  fight  their  paper- 
and-pin  battles,  and  with  letters  to  write  and  dressings 
to  make  and  supplies  to  order.  She  began  to  have 
many  visitors  —  officers  from  the  French  lines,  cor 
respondents  on  tours  of  the  Front,  and  once  even  an 
English  cabinet  member,  who  took  six  precious  lumps 
of  sugar  in  his  tea  and  dug  a  piece  of  shell  out  of  the 
wall  with  his  pocketknife  as  a  souvenir. 

Once  a  British  aviator  brought  his  machine  down  in 
the  field  by  the  mill,  and  walked  over  with  the  stiff 
stride  of  a  man  who  has  been  for  hours  in  the  air.  She 
gave  him  tea  and  bread  and  butter,  and  she  learned  then 
of  the  big  fighting  that  was  to  come. 

When  she  was  alone  she  thought  about  Henri. 
Generally  her  thoughts  were  tender;  always  they  were 
grateful.  But  she  was  greatly  puzzled.  He  had  said 
that  he  loved  her.  Then,  if  he  loved  her,  why  should 
he  not  be  gentle  and  kind  to  her?  Men  did  not  hurt 
the  women  they  loved.  And  because  she  was  hurt, 
she  was  rather  less  than  just.  He  had  not  asked  her 
to  marry  him.  He  had  said  that  he  loved  her,  but 
that  was  different.  And  the  insidious  poison  of  Har 
vey's  letter  about  foreigners  began  to  have  its  effect. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    183 

The  truth  was  that  she  was  tired.  The  strain  was 
telling  on  her.  And  at  a  time  when  she  needed  every 
moral  support  Henri  had  drawn  off  behind  a  wall  of 
misery,  and  all  her  efforts  at  a  renewal  of  their  old 
friendship  only  brought  up  against  a  sort  of  stony 
despair. 

There  were  times,  too,  when  she  grew  a  little  fright 
ened.  She  was  so  alone.  What  if  Henri  went  away 
altogether?  What  if  he  took  away  the  little  car,  and 
his  protection,  and  the  supplies  that  came  so  regularly? 
It  was  not  a  selfish  fear.  It  was  for  her  work  that  she 
trembled. 

For  the  first  time  she  realized  her  complete  depend- 
.ence  on  his  good  will.  And  now  and  then  she  felt 
that  it  would  be  good  to  see  Harvey  again,  and  be  safe 
from  all  worry,  and  not  have  to  depend  on  a  man  who 
loved  her  as  Henri  did.  For  that  she  never  doubted. 
Inexperienced  as  she  was  in  such  matters,  she  knew 
that  the  boy  loved  her.  Just  how  wildly  she  did  not 
know  until  later,  too  late  to  undo  what  the  madness 
had  done. 

Then  one  day  a  strange  thing  happened.  It  had 
been  raining,  and  when  in  the  late  afternoon  the  sun 
came  out  it  gleamed  in  the  puddles  that  filled  the  shell 
holes  in  the  road  and  set  to  a  red  blaze  the  windows  of 
the  house  of  the  mill. 

First,  soaring  overhead,  came  a  half  dozen  friendly 
planes.  Next,  the  eyes  of  the  enemy  having  thus  been 
blinded,  so  to  speak,  there  came  a  regiment  of  fresh 
troops,  swinging  down  the  street  for  all  the  world  as 


1 84    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

though  the  German  Army  was  safely  drinking  beer  in 
Munich.  They  passed  Rene,  standing  open-mouthed 
in  the  doorway,  and  one  wag  of  a  Belgian  boy,  out  of 
sheer  joy  of  spring,  did  the  goose  step  as  he  passed  the 
little  sentry  and,  head  screwed  round  in  the  German 
salute,  crossed  his  eyes  over  his  impudent  nose. 

Came,  then,  the  planes.  Came  the  regiment,  which 
turned  off  into  a  field  and  there  spread  itself,  like  a 
snake  uncoiling,  into  a  double  line.  Came  a  machine, 
gray  and  battered,  containing  officers.  Came  a  general 
with  gold  braid  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  pleasant  smile. 
Came  the  strange  event. 

The  general  found  Sara  Lee  in  the  salle  a  manger 
cutting  cotton  into  three-inch  squares,  and  he  stood  in 
the  doorway  and  bowed  profoundly. 

"Mademoiselle  Kennedy?"  he  inquired. 

Sara  Lee  replied  to  that,  and  then  gave  a  quick 
thought  to  her  larder.  Because  generals  usually  meant 
tea.  But  this  time  at  last  Sara  Lee  was  to  receive 
something,  not  to  give.  She  turned  very  white  when 
she  was  told,  and  said  she  had  not  deserved  it ;  she  was 
indeed  on  the  verge  of  declining,  not  knowing  that 
there  are  certain  things  one  does  not  decline.  But 
Marie  brought  her  hat  and  jacket  —  a  smiling,  tremu 
lous  Marie  —  and  Sara  Lee  put  them  on. 

The  general  was  very  tall.  In  her  short  skirt  and 
with  flying  hair  she  looked  like  a  child  beside  him  as 
they  walked  across  the  fields.  Suddenly  Sara  Lee  was 
terribly  afraid  she  was  going  to  cry. 

The  troops  stood  rigidly  at  attention.     And  a  cold 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     185 

wind  flapped  Sara  Lee's  skirts,  and  the  guns  hammered 
at  Ypres,  and  the  general  blew  on  his  fingers.  And 
soon  a  low  open  car  came  down  the  street  and  the  King 
got  out.  Sara  Lee  watched  him  coming  —  his  tall, 
slightly  stooped  figure,  his  fair  hair,  his  plain  blue  uni 
form.  Sara  Lee  had  never  seen  a  king  before,  and  she 
had  always  thought  of  them  as  sitting  up  on  a  sort  of 
platform  —  never  as  trudging  through  spring  mud. 

"  What  shall  I  do?  "  she  asked  nervously. 

"  He  will  shake  hands,  mademoiselle.  Bow  as  he 
approaches.  That  is  all." 

The  amazing  interlude,  indeed!  With  Sara  Lee 
being  decorated  by  the  King,  and  troops  drawn  up  to 
do  her  honor,  and  over  all  the  rumbling  of  the  great 
guns.  A  palpitating  and  dazed  Sara  Lee,  when  the 
decoration  was  fastened  to  her  black  jacket,  a  Sara 
Lee  whose  hat  blew  off  at  exactly  the  worst  moment 
and  rolled,  end  on,  like  a  hoop,  into  a  puddle. 

But,  oddly,  she  did  not  mind  about  the  hat.  She 
had  only  one  conscious  thought  just  then.  She  hoped 
that,  wherever  Uncle  James  might  be  in  that  world  of 
the  gone  before,  he  might  know  what  was  happening 
to  her  —  or  even  see  it.  He  would  have  liked  it.  He 
had  believed  in  the  Belgians  and  in  the  King.  And 
now 

The  King  did  not  go  at  once.  He  went  back  to  the 
little  house  and  went  through  it.  And  he  and  one  of 
his  generals  climbed  to  the  upper  floor,  and  the  King 
stood  looking  out  silently  toward  the  land  he  loved  and 
which  for  a  time  was  no  longer  his. 


1 86    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

He  came  down  after  a  time,  stooping  his  tall  figure 
in  the  low  doorway,  and  said  he  would  like  some  tea. 
So  Marie  put  the  kettle  on,  and  Sara  Lee  and  the  King 
talked.  It  was  all  rather  dazing.  Every  now  and 
then  she  forgot  certain  instructions  whispered  her  by 
the  general,  and  after  a  time  the  King  said:  "  Why 
do  you  do  that,  mademoiselle?  " 

For  Sara  Lee,  with  an  intent  face  and  moving  lips, 
had  been  stepping  backward. 

Sara  Lee  flushed  to  the  eyes. 

"  Because,  sire,  I  was  told  to  remain  at  a  distance  of 
six  feet." 

"  But  we  are  being  informal,"  said  the  King,  smil 
ing.  "  And  it  is  a  very  little  room." 

Sara  Lee,  who  had  been  taught  in  the  schoolroom 
that  kings  are  usurpers  of  the  divine  rights  of  the  peo 
ple  —  Sara  Lee  lost  just  a  bit  of  her  staunch  democracy 
that  day.  She  saw  the  King  of  the  Belgians  for  what 
he  really  was,  a  ruler,  but  a  symbol  as  well.  He  repre 
sented  his  country,  as  the  Flag  she  loved  represented 
hers.  The  flag  was  America,  the  King  was  Belgium. 
That  was  all. 

It  was  a  very  humble  and  flushed  Sara  Lee  who 
watched  the  gray  car  go  flying  up  the  street  later  on. 
She  went  in  and  told  the  whole  story  to  Harvey's  pic 
ture,  but  it  was  difficult  to  feel  that  he  was  hearing. 
His  eyes  were  turned  away  and  his  face  was  set  and 
stern.  And  at  last  she  gave  it  up.  This  thing  which 
meant  so  much  to  her  would  never  mean  anything  to 
Harvey.  She  knew,  even  then,  what  he  would  say. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     187 

"  Decorate  you !  I  should  think  they  might.  Med 
als  are  cheap.  Everybody  over  there  is  getting  medals. 
You  feed  their  men  and  risk  your  life  and  your  reputa 
tion,  and  they  give  you  a  thing  to  pin  on.  It's  cheap 
at  the  price.'* 

And  later  on  those  were  Harvey's  very  words.  But 
to  be  fair  to  him  they  were  but  the  sloughing  of  a 
wound  that  would  not  heal. 

That  evening  Henri  came  again.  He  was,  for  the 
first  time,  his  gay  self  again  —  at  least  on  the  surface. 
It  was  as  though,  knowing  what  he  was  going  into,  he 
would  leave  with  Sara  Lee  no  feeling,  if  he  never  re 
turned,  that  she  had  inflicted  a  lasting  hurt.  He  was 
everywhere  in  the  little  house,  elbowing  his  way  among 
the  men  with  his  cheery  nonsense,  bantering  the  weary 
ones  until  they  smiled,  carrying  hot  water  for  Sara 
Lee  and  helping  her  now  and  then  with  a  bad  dressing. 

"  If  you  would  do  it  in  this  fashion,  mademoiselle," 
he  would  say,  "  with  one  turn  of  the  bandage  over  the 
elbow " 

"  But  it  won't  hold  that  way." 

"  You  say  that  to  me,  mademoiselle  ?  I  who  have 
taught  you  all  you  know  of  bandaging?  " 

They  would  wrangle  a  bit,  and  end  by  doing  it  in 
Sara  Lee's  way. 

He  had  a  fund  of  nonsense  that  he  drew  on,  too, 
when  a  dressing  was  painful.  It  would  run  like  this, 
to  an  early  accompaniment  of  groans : 

"  Pierre,  what  can  you  put  in  your  left  hand  that 


1 88    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

you  cannot  place  in  the  right?  Stop  grunting  like  a 
pig,  and  think,  man !  " 

Pierre  would  give  a  final  rumble  and  begin  to  think 
deeply. 

"  I  cannot  think.  I  —  in  my  left  hand,  monsieur  le 
capitaine?" 

"  In  your  left  hand/' 

The  little  crowd  in  the  dressing  room  would  draw 
in  close  about  the  table  to  listen. 

"  I  do  not  know,  monsieur." 

"  Idiot !  "  Henri  would  say.  "  Your  right  elbow, 
man!" 

And  the  dressing  was  done. 

He  had  an  inexhaustible  stock  of  such  riddles,  al 
most  never  guessed.  He  would  tell  the  answer  and 
then  laugh  delightedly.  And  pain  seemed  to  leave  the 
little  room  when  he  entered  it. 

It  was  that  night  that  Henri  disappeared. 


XVII 

nnHERE  was  a  question  to  settle,  and  it  was  for 
JL  Henri  to  do  it.  Two  questions  indeed.  One 
was  a  matter  of  engineering,  and  before  the  bottom 
fell  out  of  his  world  Henri  had  studied  engineering. 
The  second  was  more  serious. 

For  the  first,  this  thing  had  happened.  Of  all  the 
trenches  to  be  held,  the  Belgians  had  undeniably  the 
worst.  Properly  speaking  they  were  not  trenches  at 
all,  but  shallow  gutters  dug  a  foot  or  two  into  the 
saturated  ground  and  then  built  man-high  with  bags 
of  earth  or  sand.  Here  and  there  they  were  not  dug 
at  all,  but  were  purely  shelters,  against  a  railway  em 
bankment,  of  planks  or  sandbags,  and  reen forced  by 
rails  from  the  deserted  track  behind  which  they  were 
hidden. 

For  this  corner  of  Belgium  had  been  saved  by  turn 
ing  it  into  a  shallow  lake.  By  opening  the  gates  in  the 
dikes  the  Allies  had  let  in  the  sea  and  placed  a  flood  in 
front  of  the  advancing  enemy.  The  battle  front  was 
a  reeking  pond.  The  opposing  armies  lived  like  duck 
hunters  in  a  swamp.  To  dig  a  foot  was  to  encounter 
water.  Machine  guns  here  and  there  sat  but  six  inches 
above  the  yellow  flood.  Men  lay  in  pools  to  fire  them. 
To  reach  outposts  were  narrow  paths  built  first  of  bags 
of  earth  —  a  life  sometimes  for  every  bag.  And, 

189 


190    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

when  this  filling  was  sufficient,  on  top  a  path  of  fas 
cines,  bound  together  in  bundles,  made  a  footway. 

For  this  reason  the  Belgians  approached  their 
trenches  not  through  deep  cuts  which  gave  them  shelter 
but  with  no  other  cover  than  the  darkness  of  night. 
During  the  day  they  lay  in  their  shallow  dugouts,  cut 
off  from  any  connection  with  the  world  behind  them. 
Food,  cooked  miles  away,  came  up  at  night,  cold  and 
unappetizing.  For  water,  having  exhausted  their  can 
teens,  there  was  nothing  but  the  brackish  tide  before 
them,  ill  smelling  and  reeking  of  fever.  Water  carts 
trundled  forward  at  night,  but  often  they  were  far  too 
few. 

The  Belgians,  having  faced  their  future  through  long 
years  of  anxiety,  had  been  trained  to  fight.  In  a  way 
they  had  been  trained  to  fight  a  losing  war,  for  they 
could  not  hope  to  defeat  their  greedy  neighbor  on  the 
east.  But  now  they  found  themselves  fighting  almost 
not  at  all,  condemned  to  inactivity,  to  being  almost 
passively  slaughtered  by  enemy  artillery,  and  to  living 
under  such  conditions  as  would  have  sapped  the  cour 
age  of  a  less  desperate  people. 

To  add  to  the  difficulties,  not  only  did  the  sea  en 
croach,  turning  a  fertile  land  into  a  salt  marsh,  but 
the  winter  rains,  unusually  heavy  that  tragic  first 
winter,  and  lacking  their  usual  egress  to  the  sea,  spread 
the  flood.  There  were  many  places  well  back  of  the 
lines  where  fields  were  flooded,  and  where  roads,  sadly 
needed,  lost  themselves  in  unfordable  wallows  of  mud 
and  water. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     191 

Henri  then,  knowing  all  this  —  none  better  —  had 
his  first  question  to  settle,  which  was  this :  As  spring 
advanced  the  flood  had  commenced  to  recede.  Time 
came  when,  in  those  trenches  now  huddled  shallow  be 
hind  the  railway  track,  one  could  live  in  a  certain  com 
fort.  In  the  deeper  ones  the  bottom  of  the  trench 
appeared  for  the  first  time. 

On  a  day  previous,  however,  the  water  had  com 
menced  to  come  back.  There  had  been  no  rain,  but 
little  by  little  in  a  certain  place  yellow,  ill-smelling  little 
streams  began  to  flow  sluggishly  into  the  trenches. 
Seeped,  rather  than  flowed.  At  first  the  Belgian  offi 
cers  laid  it  to  that  bad  luck  that  had  so  persistently  pur 
sued  them.  Then  they  held  a  conference  in  the  small 
brick  house  with  its  maps  and  its  pine  tables  and  its 
picture  of  an  American  harvester  on  the  wall,  which 
was  now  headquarters. 

Sitting  under  the  hanging  lamp,  with  an  orderly 
making  coffee  at  a  stove  in  the  corner,  they  talked  it 
over.  Henri  was  there,  silent  before  his  elders,  but  in 
tently  listening.  And  at  last  they  turned  to  him. 

"  I  can  go  and  find  out,"  he  said  quietly.  "  It  is 
possible,  though  I  do  not  see  how."  He  smiled. 
"  They  are,  I  think,  only  drying  themselves  at  our  ex 
pense.  It  is  a  bit  of  German  humor." 

But  the  cry  of  "  Calais  in  a  month !  "  was  in  the  air, 
and  undoubtedly  there  had  been  renewed  activity  along 
the  German  Front  near  the  sea.  The  second  question 
to  be  answered  was  dependent  on  the  first. 

Had  the  Germans,  as  Henri  said,  merely  shifted  the 


192    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

water,  by  some  clever  engineering,  to  the  Belgian 
trenches,  or  was  there  some  bigger  thing  on  hand? 
.What,  for  instance,  if  they  were  about  to  attempt  to 
drain  the  inundation,  smash  the  Belgian  line,  and  march 
by  the  Dunkirk  road  to  Calais  ? 

So,  that  night  while  Henri  jested  about  Pierre's  right 
elbow  and  watched  Sara  Lee  for  a  smile,  he  had  diffi 
cult  work  before  him. 

Sometime  near  midnight  he  slipped  away.  Jean 
\vas  waiting  in  the  street,  and  wrung  the  boy's  hand. 

"  I  could  go  with  you/'  he  said  rather  wistfully. 

f{    T   » 

"  You  don't  speak  their  ugly  tongue." 

"  I  could  be  mute  —  shell  shock.  You  could  be 
helping  me  back." 

But  Henri  only  held  his  hand  a  moment  and  shook 
his  head. 

"  You  would  double  the  risk,  and  —  what  good 
would  it  do?" 

"  Two  pistols  are  better  than  one." 

"  I  have  two  pistols,  my  friend,"  said  Henri,  and 
turned  the  corner  of  the  building,  past  the  boards  Rene 
had  built  in,  toward  the  house  of  the  mill.  But  once 
out  of  Jean's  sight  he  stopped  a  moment,  his  hand  rest 
ing  against  that  frail  wall  to  Sara  Lee's  room.  It  was 
his  good-by  to  her. 

For  three  days  Jean  stayed  in  the  village.  He  slept 
at  the  mill,  but  he  came  for  his  meals  to  the  little  house. 
Once  he  went  to  Dunkirk  and  brought  out  provisions 
and  the  mail,  including  Sara  Lee's  monthly  allowance. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     193 

But  mostly  he  sat  in  the  mill  house  and  waited.  He 
could  not  read. 

"  You  do  not  eat  at  all,  Jean/'  Sara  Lee  said  to  him 
more  than  once.  And  twice  she  insisted  that  he  was 
feverish,  and  placed  a  hand  that  was  somewhat  marred 
with  much  peeling  of  vegetables,  on  his  forehead. 

"  I  am  entirely  well,  mademoiselle,"  he  would  say, 
and  draw  back.  He  had  anxieties  enough  just  now 
without  being  reminded  by  the  touch  of  a  woman's 
hand  of  all  that  he  had  lost. 

Long  before  that  Sara  Lee  had  learned  not  to  ques 
tion  Jean  about  Henri's  absences.  Even  his  knowl 
edge,  now,  that  she  knew  something  of  Henri's 
work,  did  not  remove  the  barrier.  So  Sara  Lee  waited, 
as  did  Jean,  but  more  helplessly.  She  knew  something 
was  wrong,  but  she  had  not  Jean's  privilege  of  going 
at  night  to  the  trenches  and  there  waiting,  staring  over 
the  gray  water  with  its  ugly  floating  shadows,  for 
Henri  to  emerge  from  the  flood. 

Something  rather  forced  and  mechanical  there  was 
those  days  in  her  work.  Her  smile  was  rather  set. 
She  did  not  sleep  well.  And  one  night  she  violated 
Henri's  orders  and  walked  across  the  softened  fields 
to  beyond  the  poplar  trees. 

There  was  nothing  to  see  except  an  intermittent 
flash  from  the  clouds  that  hung  low  over  the  sea  at 
Nieuport,  where  British  gunboats  were  bombarding  the 
coast;  or  the  steady  streaks  from  the  Ypres  salient, 
where  night  and  day  the  guns  never  rested. 

From  the  Belgian  trenches,  fifteen  hundred  feet  or 


194    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

so  away,  there  was  no  sound.  A  German  electric 
signal  blazed  its  message  in  code,  and  went  out  quickly. 
Now  and  then  a  rifle  shot,  thin  and  sharp,  rang  out 
from  where,  under  the  floating  starlights,  keen  eyes  on 
each  side  watched  for  movements  on  the  other. 

Sara  Lee  sat  down  under  a  tree  and  watched  for  a 
while.  Then  she  found  herself  crying  softly.  It  was 
all  so  sad,  and  useless,  and  cruel.  And  somewhere 
there  ahead  was  Henri,  Henri  with  his  blue  eyes,  his 
smile,  the  ardor  of  his  young  arms  —  Henri,  who  had 
been  to  her  many  friends. 

Sara  Lee  had  never  deceived  herself  about  Henri. 
She  loved  him.  But  she  was  quite  certain  she  was  not 
in  love  with  him,  which  is  entirely  different.  She  knew 
that  this  last  was  impossible,  because  she  was  engaged 
to  Harvey.  What  was  probably  the  truth  was  that  she 
loved  them  both  in  entirely  different  ways.  Men  have 
always  insisted  on  such  possibilities,  and  have  even  as 
serted  their  right,  now  and  then,  to  love  two  women  at 
the  same  time.  But  women  are  less  frank  with  them 
selves. 

And,  in  such  cases,  there  is  no  grand  passion.  There 
are  tenderness,  and  the  joy  of  companionship,  and 
sometimes  a  touching  dependence.  But  it  is  not  a  love 
that  burns  with  a  white  fire. 

Perhaps  Sara  Lee  was  one  of  those  women  who  are 
always  loved  more  than  they  love.  There  are  such 
women,  not  selfish,  not  seeking  love,  but  softly  femi 
nine,  kind,  appealing  and  genuine.  Men  need,  after 
all,  but  an  altar  on  which  to  lay  tribute.  And  the  high, 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    195 

remote  white  altar  that  was  Sara  Lee  had  already  re 
ceived  the  love  of  two  strong  men. 

She  was  not  troubling  her  head  that  night,  however, 
about  being  an  altar,  of  a  sort.  She  cried  a  little  at 
first,  because  she  was  terrified  for  Henri  and  because 
Jean's  face  was  growing  pinched  and  gray.  Then  she 
cried  very  hard,  prone  on  the  ground  and  face  down, 
because  Henri  was  young,  and  all  of  life  should  have 
been  before  him.  And  he  was  missing. 

Henri  was  undeniably  missing.  Even  the  King 
knew  it  now,  and  set  down  in  his  heart,  among  the 
other  crosses  there,  Henri's  full  name,  which  we  may 
not  know,  and  took  to  pacing  his  little  study  and  look 
ing  out  at  the  spring  sea. 

That  night  Marie,  having  ladled  to  the  bottom  of 
her  kettle,  found  Sara  Lee  missing,  and  was  told  by 
Rene  of  the  direction  she  had  taken.  Marie,  muttering 
to  herself,  set  out  to  find  her,  and  almost  stumbled  over 
her  in  the  wood  by  the  road. 

She  sat  down  on  the  ground  without  a  word  and 
placed  a  clumsy  hand  on  the  girl's  shoulder.  It  was 
not  until  Sara  Lee  ceased  sobbing  that  she  spoke : 

"  It  is  far  from  hopeless,  mademoiselle." 

They  had  by  now  established  a  system  of  communi 
cation.  Sara  Lee  spoke  her  orders  in  halting  French, 
but  general  conversation  was  beyond  her.  And  much 
hearing  of  English  had  taught  the  Belgian  girl  enough 
to  follow. 

Sara  Lee  replied,  then,  in  smothered  English : 

"  He  is  gone,  Marie.     He  will  never  come  back." 


196    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  There  are  many  missing  who  are 
not  dead." 

Sara  Lee  shuddered.  For  spies  were  not  made  pris 
oners.  They  had  no  rights  as  prisoners  of  war. 
Their  own  governments  did  not  protect  them.  To 
Henri  capture  was  death.  But  she  could  not  say  this 
to  Marie. 

Marie  sat  softly  stroking  Sara  Lee's  hair,  her  own 
eyes  tragic  and  tearless. 

"  Even  if  it  were  —  the  other,"  she  said,  "  it  is  not 
so  bad  to  die  for  one's  country.  The  thing  that  is  ter 
rible,  that  leaves  behind  it  only  bitterness  and  grief  and 
no  hope,  mademoiselle,  even  with  many  prayers,  is  that 
one  has  died  a  traitor." 

She  coaxed  Sara  Lee  back  at  last.  They  went 
through  the  fields,  for  fresh  troops  were  being  thrown 
into  the  Belgian  trenches  and  the  street  was  full  of 
men.  Great  dray  horses  were  dragging  forward 
batteries,  the  heavy  guns  sliding  and  slipping.  In 
the  absence  of  such  information  as  only  Henri  had 
been  wont  to  bring  it  was  best  to  provide  for  the 
worst. 

The  next  day  Jean  did  not  come  over  for  breakfast, 
and  Rene  handed  Sara  Lee  a  note. 

"  I  am  going  to  England,"  Jean  had  written  that 
dawn  in  the  house  of  the  mill.  "  And  from  there  to 
Holland.  I  can  get  past  the  barrier  and  shall  work 
down  toward  the  Front.  I  must  learn  what  has  hap 
pened,  mademoiselle.  As  you  know,  if  he  was  cap 
tured,  there  is  no  hope.  But  there  is  an  excellent 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    197 

chance  that  he  is  in  hiding,  unable  to  get  back.  Look 
for  me  in  two  weeks." 

There  followed  what  instructions  he  had  given  as  to 
her  supplies,  which  would  come  as  before.  Beautifully 
written  in  Jean's  small  fine  hand,  it  spelled  for  Sara 
Lee  the  last  hope.  She  read  Jean's  desperation 
through  its  forced  cheerfulness.  And  she  faced  for 
the  first  time  a  long  period  of  loneliness  in  the  crowded 
little  house. 

She  tried  very  hard  to  fill  the  gap  that  Henri  had 
left  —  tried  to  joke  with  the  men  in  her  queer  bits  of 
French;  was  more  smiling  than  ever,  for  fear  she 
might  be  less.  But  now  and  then  in  cautious  whis 
pers  she  heard  Henri's  name,  and  her  heart  contracted 
with  very  terror. 

A  week.  Two  weeks.  Twice  the  village  was  bom 
barded  severely,  but  the  little  house  escaped  by  a  mir 
acle.  Marie  considered  it  the  same  miracle  that  left 
holy  pictures  unhurt  on  the  walls  of  destroyed  houses, 
and  allowed  the  frailest  of  old  ebony  and  rosewood 
crucifixes  to  remain  unharmed. 

Great  generals,  often  as  tall  as  they  were  great, 
stopped  at  the  little  house  to  implore  Sara  Lee  to  leave. 
But  she  only  shook  her  head. 

"  Not.  unless  you  send  me  away,"  she  always  said ; 
"  and  that  would  break  my  heart." 

"  But  to  move,  mademoiselle,  only  to  the  next  vil 
lage  ! "  they  would  remonstrate,  and  as  a  final  argu 
ment:  "  You  are  too  valuable  to  risk  an  injury." 

"  I  must  remain  here,"  she  said.     And  some  of  them 


198    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

thought  they  understood.  When  an  unusually  obdu 
rate  officer  came  along,  Sara  Lee  would  insist  on  tak 
ing  him  to  the  cellar. 

"  You  see !  "  she  would  say,  holding  her  candle  high. 
"  It  is  a  nice  cellar,  warm  and  dry.  It  is  " —  proudly 
— "  one  of  the  best  cellars  in  the  village.  It  is  a  really 
homelike  cellar." 

The  officer  would  go  away  then,  and  send  her  cigar 
ettes  for  her  men  or,  as  in  more  than  one  case,  a  squad 
with  bags  of  earth  and  other  things  to  protect  the  little 
house  as  much  as  possible.  After  a  time  the  little 
house  began  to  represent  the  ideas  in  protection  and 
camouflage,  then  in  its  early  stages,  of  many  different 
minds. 

Rene  shot  a  man  there  one  night,  a  skulking  figure 
working  its  way  in  the  shadows  up  the  street.  It  was 
just  before  dawn,  and  Rene,  who  was  sleepless  those 
days,  like  the  others,  called  to  him.  The  man  started 
to  run,  dodging  behind  walls.  But  Rene  ran  faster  and 
killed  him. 

He  was  a  German  in  Belgian  peasant's  clothing. 
But  he  wore  the  great  shoes  of  the  German  soldier,  and 
he  had  been  making  a  rough  map  of  the  Belgian 
trenches. 

Sara  Lee  did  not  see  him.  But  when  she  heard  the 
shot  she  went  out,  and  Rene  told  her  breathlessly. 

From  that  time  on  her  terrors  took  the  definite  form 
of  Henri  lying  dead  in  a  ruined  street,  and  being  buried, 
as  this  man  was  buried,  without  ceremony  and  without 
a  prayer,  in  some  sodden  spring  field. 


XVIII 

AS  the  spring  advanced  Harvey  grew  increas 
ingly  bitter;  grew  morbid  and  increasingly  self- 
conscious  also.  He  began  to  think  that  people  were 
smiling  behind  his  back,  and  when  they  asked  about 
Sara  Lee  he  met  with  almost  insulting  brevity  what  he 
felt  was  half -contemptuous  kindness.  He  went  no 
where,  and  worked  all  day  and  until  late  in  the  night. 

He  did  well  in  his  business,  however,  and  late  in 
March  he  received  a  substantial  raise  in  salary.  He 
took  it  without  enthusiasm,  and  told  Belle  that  night  at 
dinner  with  apathy. 

After  the  evening  meal  it  was  now  his  custom  to  go 
to  his  room  and  there,  shut  in,  to  read.  He  read  no 
books  on  the  war,  and  even  the  quarter  column  entitled 
Salient  Points  of  the  Day's  War  News  hardly  received 
a  glance  from  him  now. 

In  the  office  when  the  talk  turned  to  the  war,  as  it  did 
almost  hourly,  he  would  go  out  or  scowl  over  his  let 
ters. 

"  Harvey's  hit  hard,"  they  said  there. 

"  He's  acting  like  a  rotten  cub,"  was  likely  to  be  the 
next  sentence.  But  sometimes  it  was :  "  Well,  what'd 
you  expect  ?  Everything  ready  to  get  married,  and  the 
girl  beating  it  for  France  without  notice !  I'd  be  sore 
myself." 

On  the  day  of  the  raise  in  salary  his  sister  got  the 

199 


200    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

children  to  bed  and  straightened  up  the  litter  of  small 
garments  that  seemed  always  to  bestrew  the  house, 
even  to  the  lower  floor.  Then  she  went  into  Harvey's 
room.  Coat  and  collar  off,  he  was  lying  on  the  bed, 
but  not  reading.  His  book  lay  beside  him,  and  with 
his  arms  under  his  head  he  was  staring  at  the  ceiling. 

She  did  not  sit  down  beside  him  on  the  bed.  They 
were  an  undemonstrative  family,  and  such  endearments 
as  Belle  used  were  lavished  on  her  children.  But  her 
eyes  were  kind,  and  a  little  nervous. 

"  Do  you  mind  talking  a  little,  Harvey?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  like  talking  much.  I'm  tired,  I  guess. 
But  go  on.  What  is  it  ?  Bills  ?  " 

She  came  to  him  in  her  constant  financial  anxieties, 
and  always  he  was  ready  to  help  her  out.  But  his  tone 
now  was  gruff.  A  slight  flush  of  resentment  colored 
her  cheeks. 

"  Not  this  time,  Ilarve.  I  was  just  thinking  about 
things." 

"  Sit  down.'1 

She  sat  on  the  straight  chair  beside  the  bed,  the  chair 
on  which,  in  neat  order,  Harvey  placed  his  clothing  at 
night,  his  shoes  beneath,  his  coat  over  the  back. 

"  I  wish  you'd  go  out  more,  Harvey." 

"  Why?  Go  out  and  talk  to  a  lot  of  driveling  fools 
who  don't  care  for  me  any  more  than  I  do  for  them  ?  " 

"  That* s  not  like  you,  Harve." 

"  Sorry."  His  tone  softened.  "  I  don't  care  much 
about  going  round,  Belle.  That's  all.  I  guess  you 
know  why." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    201 

"  So  does  everybody  else." 

He  sat  up  and  looked  at  her. 

"  Well,  suppose  they  do?  I  can't  help  that,  can  I? 
When  a  fellow  has  been  jilted " 

"  You  haven't  been  jilted." 

He  lay  down  again,  his  arms  under  his  head;  and. 
Belle  knew  that  his  eyes  were  on  Sara  Lee's  picture  on 
his  dresser. 

"  It  amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

"  Harvey,"  Belle  said  hesitatingly,  "  I've  brought 
Sara  Lee's  report  from  the  Ladies'  Aid.  May  I  read  it 
to  you?" 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  it."  Then :  "  Give  it  here. 
I'll  look  at  it." 

He  read  it  carefully,  his  hands  rather  unsteady.  So 
many  men  given  soup,  so  many  given  chocolate.  So 
many  dressings  done.  And  at  the  bottom  Sara  Lee's 
request  for  more  money  —  an  apologetic,  rather  breath 
less  request,  and  closing,  rather  primly  with  this : 

"  I  am  sure  that  the  society  will  feel,  from  the  above 
report,  that  the  work  is  worth  while,  and  worth  con 
tinuing.  I  am  only  sorry  that  I  cannot  send  photo 
graphs  of  the  men  who  come  for  aid,  but  as  they  come 
at  night  it  is  impossible.  I  enclose,  however,  a  small 
picture  of  the  house,  which  is  now  known  as  the  little 
house  of  mercy." 

"  At  night !  "  said  Harvey.  "  So  she's  there  alone 
with  a  lot  of  ignorant  foreigners  at  night.  Why  the 
devil  don't  they  come  in  the  daytime  ?  " 

"  Here's  the  picture,  Harvey." 


202    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

He  got  up  then,  and  carried  the  tiny  photograph  over 
close  to  the  gas  jet.  There  he  stood  for  a  long  time, 
gazing  at  it.  There  was  Rene  with  his  rifle  and  his 
smile.  There  was  Marie  in  her  white  apron.  And  in 
the  center,  the  wind  blowing  her  soft  hair,  was  Sara 
Lee. 

Harvey  groaned  and  Belle  came  over  and  putting  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder  looked  at  the  photograph  with 
him. 

"Do  you  know  what  I  think,  Harvey?"  she  said. 
"  I  think  Sara  Lee  is  right  and  you  are  wrong." 

He  turned  on  her  almost  savagely. 

"  That's  not  the  point!  "  he  snapped  out.  "  I  don't 
begrudge  the  poor  devils  their  soup.  What  I  feel  is 
this :  If  she'd  cared  a  tinker's  dam  for  me  she'd  never 
have  gone.  That's  all." 

He  returned  to  a  moody  survey  of  the  picture. 

"  Look  at  it!  "  he  said.  "  She  insists  that  she's  safe. 
But  that  fellow's  got  a  gun.  What  for,  if  she's  so 
safe  ?  And  look  at  that  house !  There's  a  corner  shot 
away;  and  it's  got  no  upper  floor.  Safe!  " 

Belle  held  out  her  hand. 

"  I  must  return  the  picture  to  the  society,  Harve." 

"  Not  just  yet,"  he  said  ominously.  "  I  want  to 
look  at  it.  I  haven't  got  it  all  yet.  And  I'll  return  it 
myself  —  with  a  short  speech." 

"Harvey!" 

"  Well,"  he  retorted,  "  why  shouldn't  I  tell  that  lot 
of  old  scandalmongers  what  I  think  of  them  ?  They'll 
sit  here  safe  at  home  and  beg  money  —  God,  one  of 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    203 

them  was  in  the  office  to-day !  —  and  send  a  young  girl 

over  to You'd  better  get  out,  Belle.  I'm  not 

company  for  any  one  to-night." 

She  turned  away,  but  he  came  after  her,  and  sud 
denly  putting  his  arms  round  her  he  kissed  her. 

"  Don't  worry  about  me,"  he  said.  "  I'm  done  with 
wearing  my  heart  on  my  sleeve.  She  looks  happy,  so 
I  guess  I  can  be."  He  released  her.  "  Good  night. 
I'll  return  the  picture." 

He  sat  up  very  late,  alternately  reading  the  report 
and  looking  at  the  picture.  It  was  unfortunate  that 
Sara  Lee  had  smiled  into  the  camera.  Coupled  with 
her  blowing  hair  it  had  given  her  a  light-heartedness,  a 
sort  of  joyousness,  that  hurt  him  to  the  soul. 

He  made  some  mad  plans  after  he  had  turned  out 
the  lights  —  to  flirt  wildly  with  the  unattached  girls 
he  knew;  to  go  to  France  and  confront  Sara  Lee  and 
then  bring  her  home.  Or 

He  had  found  a  way.  He  lay  there  and  thought  it 
over,  and  it  bore  the  test  of  the  broken  sleep  that  fol 
lowed.  In  the  morning,  dressing,  he  wondered  he  had 
not  thought  of  it  before.  He  was  more  cheerful  at 
breakfast  than  he  had  been  for  weeks. 


XIX 

IN  the  little  house  of  mercy  two  weeks  went  by, 
and  then  a  third.  Soldiers  marching  out  to  the 
trenches  sometimes  wore  flowers  tucked  gayly  in  their 
caps.  More  and  more  Allied  aeroplanes  were  in  the 
air.  Sometimes,  standing  in  the  streets,  Sara  Lee  saw 
one  far  overhead,  while  balloon-shaped  clouds  of  burst 
ing  shells  hung  far  below  it. 

Once  or  twice  in  the  early  morning  a  German  plane, 
flying  so  low  that  one  could  easily  see  the  black  cross 
on  each  wing,  reconnoitered  the  village  for  wagon 
trains  or  troops.  Always  they  found  it  empty. 

Hope  had  almost  fled  now.  In  the  afternoons  Marie 
went  to  the  ruined  church,  and  there  knelt  before  the 
heap  of  marble  and  masonry  that  had  once  been  the 
altar,  and  prayed.  And  Sara  Lee,  who  had  been 
brought  up  a  Protestant  and  had  never  before  entered 
a  Catholic  church,  took  to  going  there  too.  In  some 
strange  fashion  the  peace  of  former  days  seemed  to 
cling  to  the  little  structure,  roofless  as  it  was.  On  quiet 
days  it  silence  was  deeper  than  elsewhere.  On  days 
of  much  firing  the  sound  from  within  its  broken  walls 
seemed  deadened,  far  away. 

Marie  burned  a  candle  as  she  prayed,  for  that  soul 
in  purgatory  which  she  had  once  loved,  and  now  pitied. 
Sara  Lee  burned  no  candle,  but  she  knelt,  sometimes 

205 


2o6    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

beside  Marie,  sometimes  alone,  and  prayed  for  many 
things :  that  Henri  should  be  living,  somewhere ;  that 
the  war  might  end ;  that  that  day  there  would  be  little 
wounding;  that  some  day  the  Belgians  might  go  home 
again ;  and  that  back  in  America  Harvey  might  grow  to 
understand  and  forgive  her.  And  now  and  then  she 
looked  iiiio  the  very  depths  of  her  soul,  and  on  those 
days  she  prayed  that  her  homeland  might,  before  it  was 
too  late,  see  this  thing  as  she  was  seeing  it.  The  wan 
ton  waste  of  it  all,  the  ghastly  cruelty  the  Germans 
had  brought  into  this  war. 

Sara  Lee's  vague  thinking  began  to  crystallize. 
This  war  was  not  a  judgment  sent  from  on  high  to  a 
sinful  world.  It  was  the  wicked  imposition  of  one 
nation  on  other  nations.  It  was  national.  It  was  al 
most  racial.  But  most  of  all  it  was  a  war  of  hate  on 
the  German  side.  She  had  never  believed  in  hate. 
There  were  ugly  passions  in  the  world  —  jealousy, 
envy,  suspicion;  but  not  hate.  The  word  was  not  in 
her  rather  limited  vocabulary. 

There  was  no  hate  on  the  part  of  the  men  she  knew. 
The  officers  who  stopped  in  on  their  way  to  and  from 
the  trenches  were  gentlemen  and  soldiers.  They  were 
determined  and  grave;  they  resented,  they  even 
loathed.  But  they  did  not  hate.  The  little  Belgian 
soldiers  were  bewildered,  puzzled,  desperately  resent 
ful.  But  of  hate,  as  translated  into  terms  of  frightful- 
ness,  they  had  no  understanding. 

Yet  from  the  other  side  were  coming  methods  of 
war  so  wantonly  cruel,  so  useless  save  as  inflicting  need- 


THAT   HENRI   MIGHT   BE   LIVING,    SOMEWHERE — 

THAT   SOME    DAY   THE   BELGIANS   MIGHT   GO    HOME    AGAIN 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    207 

less  agony,  as  only  hate  could  devise.  No  strategic 
value  justified  them.  They  were  spontaneous  out 
growths  of  venom,  nursed  during  the  winter  deadlock 
and  now  grown  to  full  size  and  destructive  power. 

The  rumor  of  a  gas  that  seared  and  killed  came  to 
the  little  house  as  early  as  February.  In  March  there 
came  the  first  victims,  poor  writhing  creatures,  de 
prived  of  the  boon  of  air,  their  seared  lungs  collapsed 
and  agonized,  their  faces  drawn  into  masks  of  suffer 
ing.  Some  of  them  died  in  the  little  house,  and  even 
after  death  their  faces  held  the  imprint  of  horror. 

To  Sara  Lee,  burying  her  own  anxiety  under  the 
cloak  of  service,  there  came  new  and  terrible  thoughts. 
This  was  not  war.  The  Germans  had  sent  their  clouds 
of  poisoned  gas  across  the  inundation,  but  had  made 
no  attempt  to  follow.  This  was  killing,  for  the  lust  of 
killing;  suffering,  for  the  joy  of  inflicting  pain. 

And  a  day  or  so  later  she  heard  of  The  Hague  Con 
vention.  She  had  not  known  of  it  before.  Now  she 
learned  of  that  gentlemen's  agreement  among  nations, 
and  that  it  said:  "  The  use  of  poison  or  of  poisoned 
weapons  is  forbidden."  She  pondered  that  carefully, 
trying  to  think  dispassionately.  Now  and  then  she  re 
ceived  a  copy  of  a  home  newspaper,  and  she  saw  that 
the  use  of  poison  gases  was  being  denied  by  Germans 
in  America  and  set  down  to  rumor  and  hysteria. 

So,  on  a  cold  spring  day,  she  sat  down  at  the  table 
in  the  salle  a  manger  and  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Presi 
dent,  beginning  "  Dear  Sir  " ;  and  telling  what  she  knew 
of  poison  gas.  She  also,  on  second  thought,  wrote 


208    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

one  to  Andrew  Carnegie,  who  had  built  a  library  in 
her  city.  She  felt  that  the  expense  to  him  of  sending 
some  one  over  to  investigate  would  not  be  prohibitive, 
and  something  must  be  done. 

She  never  heard  from  either  of  her  letters,  but  she 
felt  better  for  having  written  them.  And  a  day  or 
two  later  she  received  from  Mrs.  Travers,  in  England, 
a  small  supply  of  the  first  gas  masks  of  the  war.  Sim 
ple  and  primitive  they  were,  those  first  masks ;  useless, 
too,  as  it  turned  out  —  a  square  of  folded  gauze,  soaked 
in  some  solution  and  then  dried,  with  tapes  to  tie  it  over 
the  mouth  and  nose.  To  adjust  them  the  soldiers  had 
but  to  stoop  and  wet  them  in  the  ever-present  water  in 
the  trench,  and  then  to  tie  them  on. 

Sara  Lee  gave  them  out  that  night,  and  there  was 
much  mirth  in  the  little  house,  such  mirth  as  there  had 
not  been  since  Henri  went  away.  The  Belgians 
called  it  a  bal  masque,  and  putting  them  on  bowed  be 
fore  one  another  and  requested  dances,  and  even  flirted 
coyly  with  each  other  over  their  bits  of  white  gauze. 
And  in  the  very  middle  of  the  gayety  some  one  pro 
pounded  one  of  Henri's  idiotic  riddles;  and  Sara  Lee 
went  across  to  her  little  room  and  closed  the  door  and 
stood  there  with  her  eyes  shut,  for  fear  she  would 
scream. 

Then,  one  day,  coming  out  of  the  little  church,  she 
saw  the  low  broken  gray  car  turn  in  at  the  top  of  the 
street  and  come  slowly,  so  very  slowly,  toward  her. 
There  were  two  men  in  it. 

One  was  Henri. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    209 

She  ran,  stumbling  because  of  tears,  up  the  street. 
It  was  Henri !  There  was  no  mistake.  There  he  sat 
beside  Jean,  brushed  and  very  neat;  and  very,  very 
white. 

"  Mademoiselle ! "  he  said,  and  came  very  close  to 
crying  himself  when  he  saw  her  face.  He  was  greatly 
excited.  His  sunken  eyes  devoured  her  as  she  ran  to 
ward  him.  Almost  he  held  out  his  arms.  But  he 
could  not  do  that,  even  if  he  would,  for  one  was  band 
aged  to  his  side. 

It  is  rather  sad  to  record  how  many  times  Sara  Lee 
wept  during  her  amazing  interlude.  For  here  is  an 
other  time.  She  wept  for  joy  and  wretchedness.  She 
stood  on  the  running  board  and  cried  and  smiled.  And 
Jean  winked  his  one  eye  rapidly. 

"This  idiot,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  gruffly,  "this 
maniac  —  he  would  not  remain  in  Calais,  with  proper 
care.  He  must  come  on  here.  And  rapidly.  Could 
he  have  taken  the  wheel  from  me  we  should  have  been 
here  an  hour  ago.  But  for  once  I  have  an  advantage." 

The  car  jolted  to  the  little  house,  and  Jean  helped 
Henri  out.  Such  a  strange  Henri,  smiling  and  joyous, 
and  walking  at  a  crawl,  even  with  Jean's  support.  He 
protested  violently  against  being  put  to  bed,  and  when 
he  found  himself  led  into  Sara  Lee's  small  room  he 
openly  rebelled. 

"  Never ! "  he  said  stubbornly,  halting  in  the  door- 
way.  "  This  is  mademoiselle's  boudoir.  Her  — 
drawing-room  as  well.  I  am  going  to  the  mill  house 
and " 


2io    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

He  staggered. 

So  Sara  Lee's  room  had  a  different  occupant  for  a 
time,  a  thin  and  fine-worn  young  Belgian,  who  yielded 
to  Sara  Lee  when  Jean  gave  up  in  despair,  and  who 
proceeded,  most  unmanfully,  to  faint  as  soon  as  he  was 
between  the  blankets. 

If  Sara  Lee  hoped  to  nurse  Henri  she  was  doomed 
to  disappointment.  Jean  it  was  who  took  over  the 
care  of  the  boy,  a  Jean  who  now  ate  prodigiously,  and 
whistled  occasionally,  and  slept  at  night  robed  in  his 
blanket  on  the  floor  beside  Henri's  bed,  lest  that  rebel 
lious  invalid  get  up  and  try  to  move  about. 

On  the  first  night,  with  the  door  closed,  against 
Henri's  entreaties,  while  the  little  house  received  its 
evening  complement  of  men,  and  with  Henri  lying  back 
on  his  pillows,  fresh  dressed  as  to  the  wounds  in  his 
arm  and  chest,  fed  with  Sara  Lee's  daintiest,  and  rest 
ing,  Jean  found  the  boy's  eyes  resting  on  the  mantel. 

"  Dear  and  obstinate  friend,"  said  Henri,  "  do  you 
wish  me  to  be  happy  ?  " 

"  You  shall  not  leave  the  room  or  your  bed.  That 
is  arranged  for." 

"  How  ?  "  demanded  Henri  with  interest. 

"  Because  I  have  hidden  away  your  trousers." 

Henri  laughed,  but  he  sobered  quickly. 

"If  you  wish  me  to  be  happy,"  he  said,  "  take  away 
that  American  photograph.  But  first,  please  to  bring 
it  here." 

Jean   brought  it,  holding  it  gingerly  between  his 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    211 

thumb  and  forefinger.  And  Henri  lay  back  and 
studied  it. 

"  It  is  mademoiselle's  fiance,"  he  said. 

Jean  grunted. 

"  Look  at  it,  Jean,"  Henri  said  in  his  half -bantering 
tone,  with  despair  beneath  it ;  "  and  then  look  at  me. 
Or  no  —  remembering  me  as  I  was  when  I  was  a  man. 
He  is  better,  eh?  It  is  a  good  face.  But  there  is  a 

jaw,  a Do  you  think  he  will  be  kind  to  her  as 

she  requires?  She  requires  much  kindness.  Some 
women " 

He  broke  off  and  watched  Jean  anxiously. 

"  A  half  face !  "  Jean  said  scornfully.  "  The  pretty 
view !  As  for  kindness  — — "  He  put  the  photo 
graph  face  down  on  the  table.  "  I  knew  once  a  man 
in  Belgium  who  married  an  American.  At  Antwerp. 
They  were  most  unhappy.*' 

Henri  smiled. 

"  You  are  lying,"  he  said  with  boyish  pleasure  in  his 
own  astuteness.  "  You  knew  no  such  couple.  You 
are  trying  to  make  me  resigned." 

But  quite  a  little  later,  when  Jean  thought  he  was 
asleep,  he  said :  "  I  shall  never  be  resigned." 

So  at  last  spring  had  come,  and  Henri  and  the  great 
spring  drive.  The  Germans  had  not  drained  the  in 
undation,  nor  had  they  broken  through  to  Calais.  And 
it  is  not  to  be  known  here  how  much  this  utter  failure 
had  been  due  to  the  information  Henri  had  secured 
before  he  was  wounded. 


212    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

One  day  in  his  bed  Henri  received  a  visit  from  the 
King,  and  was  left  lying  with  a  decoration  on  his 
breast  and  a  beatific,  if  somewhat  sheepish,  expression 
on  his  face.  And  one  night  the  village  was  bombarded, 
and  on  Henri's  refusing  to  be  moved  to  the  cellar  Sara 
Lee  took  up  a  determined  stand  in  his  doorway,  until 
at  last  he  made  a  most  humiliating  move  for  safety. 

Bit  by  bit  Sara  Lee  got  the  story,  its  bare  detail  from 
Henri,  its  courage  and  sheer  recklessness  from  Jean. 
It  would,  for  instance,  run  like  this,  with  Henri  in  a 
chair  perhaps,  and  cutting  dressings  —  since  that 
might  be  done  with  one  hand  —  and  Sara  Lee,  sleeves 
rolled  up  and  a  great  bowl  of  vegetables  before  her: 

"And  when  you  got  through  the  water,  Henri?" 
she  would  ask.  "  What  then  ?  " 

"  It  was  quite  simple.  They  had  put  up  some  ad 
ditional  wire,  however " 

"  Where?" 

"  There  was  a  break,"  he  would  explain.  "  I  have 
told  you  —  between  their  trenches.  I  had  used  it  be 
fore  to  get  through." 

"  But  how  could  you  go  through  ?  " 

"  Like  a  snake,"  he  would  say,  smiling.  "  Very  flat 
and  wriggling.  I  have  eaten  of  the  dirt,  mademoi 
selle." 

Then  he  would  stop  and  cut,  very  awkwardly,  with 
his  left  hand. 

"  Go  on,"  she  would  prompt  him.  "  But  they  had 
put  barbed  wire  there.  Is  that  it?  So  you  could  not 
get  through?" 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    213 

"  With  tin  cans  on  it,  and  stones  in  the  cans.  I 
thought  I  had  removed  them  all,  but  there  was  one  left. 
So  they  heard  me." 

More  cutting  and  a  muttered  French  expletive. 
Henri  was  not  a  particularly  patient  cripple.  And  ap 
parently  there  was  an  end  to  the  story. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,"  Sara  Lee  would  exclaim  de 
spairingly  ;  "  so  they  heard  you !  That  isn't  all,  is  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  almost  all,"  he  would  say  with  his  boyish 
smile. 

"  And  they  shot  at  you?  " 

"  Even  better.  They  shot  me.  That  was  this  one." 
And  he  would  point  to  his  arm. 

More  silence,  more  cutting,  a  gathering  exasperation 
on  Sara  Lee's  part. 

"  Are  you  going  on  or  not?  " 

"  Then  I  pretended  to  be  one  of  them,  mademoiselle. 
I  speak  German  as  French.  I  pretended  not  to  be 
hurt,  but  to  be  on  a  reconnoissance.  And  I  got  into 
the  trench  and  we  had  a  talk  in  the  darkness.  It  was 
most  interesting.  Only  if  they  had  shown  a  light  they 
would  have  seen  that  I  was  wounded." 

By  bits,  not  that  day,  but  after  many  days,  she  got 
the  story.  In  the  next  trench  he  slipped  a  sling  over 
the  wounded  arm  and,  as  a  Bavarian  on  his  way  to  the 
dressing  station,  got  back. 

"  I  had  some  trouble,"  he  confessed  one  day. 
"  Now  and  then  one  would  offer  to  go  back  with  me. 
And  I  did  not  care  for  assistance !  " 

But   sometime  later  there  was  trouble.     She  was 


214    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

four  days  getting  to  that  part  of  it.  He  had  got  be 
hind  the  lines  by  that  time,  and  he  knew  that  in  some 
way  suspicion  had  been  roused.  He  was  weak  by  that 
time,  and  could  not  go  far.  He  had  lain  hidden,  for  a 
day  and  part  of  a  night,  without  water,  in  a  destroyed 
barn,  and  then  had  escaped. 

He  got  into  the  Belgian  costume  as  before,  but  he 
could  not  wear  a  sling  for  his  wounded  arm.  He  got 
the  peasant  to  thrust  his  helpless  right  hand  into  his 
pocket,  and  for  two  days  he  made  a  close  inspection 
of  what  was  going  on.  But  fever  had  developed,  and 
on  the  third  night,  half  delirious,  when  he  was  spoken 
to  by  an  officer  he  had  replied,  of  all  tongues,  in  Eng 
lish. 

The  officer  shot  him  instantly  in  the  chest.  He  fell 
and  lay  still  and  the  officer  bent  over  him.  In  that 
moment  Henri  stabbed  him  with  a  knife  in  his  left 
hand.  Men  were  coming  from  every  direction,  but 
he  got  away  —  he  did  not  clearly  remember  how. 
And  at  dawn  he  fell  into  the  Belgian  farmhouse,  appar 
ently  dying. 

Jean's  story,  on  the  other  hand,  was  given  early  and 
with  no  hesitation.  He  had  crossed  the  border  at  Hol 
land  in  civilian  clothes,  by  the  simple  expedient  of 
bribing  a  sentry.  He  had  got,  with  little  difficulty,  to 
the  farmhouse,  and  found  Henri,  now  recovering  but 
very  weak ;  he  was  lying  hidden  in  a  garret,  and  he  was 
suffering  from  hunger  and  lack  of  medical  attention. 
In  a  wagon  full  of  market  stuff,  Henri  hidden  in  the 
bed  of  it,  they  had  got  to  the  border  again.  And  there 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    215 

Jean  had,  it  seemed,  stabbed  the  sentry  he  had  bribed 
before  and  driven  on  to  neutral  soil. 

Not  an  unusual  story,  that  of  Henri  and  Jean.  The 
journey  across  Belgium  in  the  springless  farm  wagon 
was  the  worst.  They  had  had  to  take  roundabout 
lanes,  avoiding  the  main  highways.  Fortunately,  al 
ways  at  night  there  were  friendly  houses,  kind  hands 
to  lift  Henri  into  warm  fire-lighted  interiors.  Many 
messages  they  had  brought  back,  some  of  cheer,  but 
too  often  of  tragedy,  from  the  small  farmsteads  of 
Belgium. 

Then  finally  had  been  Holland,  and  the  chartering 
of  a  boat  —  and  at  last 

"  Here  we  are,  and  here  we  are,  and  here  we  are 
again/'  sang  Henri,  chopping  at  his  cotton  and  making 
a  great  show  of  cheerfulness  before  Sara  Lee. 

But  with  Jean  sometimes  he  showed  the  black  de 
pression  beneath.  He  would  never  be  a  man  again. 
He  was  done  for.  He  gained  strength  so  slowly  that 
he  believed  he  was  not  gaining  at  all.  He  was  not 
happy,  and  the  unhappy  mend  slowly. 

After  the  time  he  had  asked  Jean  to  take  away 
Harvey's  photograph  he  did  not  recur  to  the  subject, 
but  he  did  not  need  to.  Jean  knew,  perhaps  even  bet 
ter  than  Henri  himself,  that  the  boy  was  recklessly, 
hopelessly,  not  quite  rationally  in  love  with  the  Amer 
ican  girl. 

Also  Henri  was  fretting  about  his  work.  Some 
times  at  night,  following  Henri's  instructions,  Jean 
wandered  quietly  along  roads  and  paths  that  paralleled 


216    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

the  Front.  At  such  times  his  eyes  were  turned,  not 
toward  the  trenches,  but  toward  that  flat  country  which 
lay  behind,  still  dotted  at  that  time  with  groves  of 
trees,  with  canals  overhung  with  pollard  willows,  and 
with  here  and  there  a  farmhouse  that  at  night  took  on 
in  the  starlight  the  appearance  of  being  whole  again. 
Singularly  white  and  peaceful  were  those  small  stead 
ings  of  Belgium  in  the  night  hours  —  until  cruel  dawn 
showed  them  for  what  they  were  —  skeletons  of  dead 
homes,  clothed  only  at  night  with  wraithlike  roofs  and 
chimneys;  ghosts  of  houses,  appearing  between  mid 
night  and  cock  crow. 

Jean  had  not  Henri's  eyes  nor  his  recklessness  nor 
his  speed,  for  that  matter.  Now  and  then  he  saw  the 
small  appearing  and  disappearing  lights  on  some  small 
rise.  He  would  reach  the  spot,  with  such  shelter  as 
possible,  to  find  only  a  sugar-beet  field,  neglected  and 
unplowed. 

Then,  one  night,  tragedy  came  to  the  little  house  of 
mercy. 


XX 

HARVEY  proceeded  to  put  his  plan  into  effect  at 
once,  with  the  simple  method  of  an  essentially 
simple   nature.     The  thing  had   become   intolerable; 
therefore  it  must  end. 

On  the  afternoon  following  his  talk  with  Belle  he 
came  home  at  three  o'clock.  Belle  heard  him  moving 
about  in  his  room,  and  when  she  entered  it,  after  he 
had  gone,  she  found  that  he  had  shaved  and  put  on  his 
best  suit. 

She  smiled  a  little.  It  was  like  Harvey  to  be  literal. 
He  had  said  he  was  going  to  go  round  and  have  a  good 
time,  and  he  was  losing  no  time.  But  in  their  re 
stricted  social  life,  where  most  of  the  men  worked  until 
five  o'clock  or  even  later,  there  were  few  afternoon 
calls  paid.  Belle  wondered  with  mild  sisterly  curiosity 
into  what  arena  Harvey  was  about  to  fling  his  best  hat. 

But  though  Harvey  paid  a  call  that  afternoon  it  was 
not  on  any  of  the  young  women  he  knew.  He  went  to 
see  Mrs.  Gregory.  She  was  at  home  —  he  had  ar 
ranged  for  that  by  telephone  —  and  the  one  butler  of 
the  neighborhood  admitted  him.  It  was  a  truculent 
young  man,  for  all  his  politeness,  who  confronted  Mrs. 
Gregory  in  her  drawing-room  —  a  quietly  truculent 
young  man,  who  came  to  the  point  while  he  was  still 
shaking  hands. 

217 


2i8    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  You're  not  going  to  be  glad  to  see  me  in  a  minute," 
he  said  in  reply  to  her  greeting. 

"  How  can  you  know  that?  " 

"  Because  I've  come  to  get  you  to  do  something  you 
won't  want  to  do." 

"  We  won't  quarrel  before  we  begin,  then,"  she  said 
pleasantly.  "  Because  I  really  never  do  anything  I 
don't  wish  to  do." 

But  she  gave  him  a  second  glance  and  her  smile 
became  a  trifle  forced.  She  knew  all  about  Harvey 
and  Sara  Lee.  She  had  heard  rumors  of  his  disap 
proval  also.  Though  she  was  not  a  clever  nor  a  very 
keen  woman,  she  saw  what  was  coming  and  braced 
herself  for  it. 

Harvey  had  prepared  in  his  mind  a  summary  of  his 
position,  and  he  delivered  it  with  the  rapidity  and 
strength  of  a  blow. 

"  I  know  all  about  the  Belgians,  Mrs.  Gregory,"  he 
said.  "  I'm  sorry  for  them.  So  is  every  one,  I  sup 
pose.  But  I  want  to  know  if  you  think  a  girl  of 
twenty  ought  to  be  over  there  practically  at  the  Front, 
and  alone?"  He  gave  her  time  to  reply.  "  Would 
you  like  to  have  your  daughter  there,  if  you  had  one?  " 

"  Perhaps  not,  under  ordinary  circumstances.  But 
this  is  war " 

"  It  is  not  our  war." 

"  Humanity,"  said  Mrs.  Gregory,  remembering  the 
phrase  she  had  written  for  a  speech  — "  humanity  has 
no  nationality.  It  is  of  all  men,  for  all  men." 

"  That's  men.     Not  women !  " 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    219 

He  got  up  and  stood  on  the  hearthrug.  He  was 
singularly  reminiscent  of  the  time  he  had  stood  on 
Aunt  Harriet's  white  fur  rug  and  had  told  Sara  Lee 
she  could  not  go. 

"  Now  see  here,  Mrs.  Gregory/'  he  said,  "  we'll  stop 
beating  about  the  bush,  if  you  don't  mind.  She's  got 
to  come  home.  She's  coming,  if  I  have  to  go  and  get 
her!" 

"  You  needn't  look  at  me  so  fiercely.  I  didn't  send 
her.  It  was  her  own  idea." 

Harvey  sneered. 

"  No,"  he  said  slowly.  "  But  I  notice  your  society 
publishes  her  reports  in  the  papers,  and  that  the  names 
of  the  officers  are  rarely  missing." 

Mrs.  Gregory  colored. 

"  We  must  have  publicity  to  get  money,"  she  said. 
"  It  is  hard  to  get.  Sometimes  I  have  had  to  make  up 
the  deficit  out  of  my  own  pocket." 

"  Then  for  God's  sake  bring  her  home !  If  the  thing 
has  to  go  on,  send  over  there  some  of  the  middle-aged 
women  who  have  no  ties.  Let  'em  get  shot  if  they 
want  to.  They  can  write  as  good  reports  as  she  can, 
if  that's  all  you  want.  And  make  as  good  soup,"  he 
added  bitterly. 

"  It  could  be  done,  of  course,"  she  said,  thought 
fully.  "But  —  I  must  tell  you  this:  I  doubt  if  an 
older  woman  could  have  got  where  she  has.  There  is 
no  doubt  that  her  charm,  her  youth  and  beauty  have 
helped  her  greatly.  We  cannot " 

The  very  whites  of  his  eyes  turned  red  then.     He 


220    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

shouted  furiously  that  for  their  silly  work  and  their 
love  of  publicity,  they  were  trading  on  a  girl's  youth 
and  beauty;  that  if  anything  happened  to  her  he  would 
publish  the  truth  in  every  newspaper  in  the  country; 
that  they  would  at  once  recall  Sara  Lee  or  he  would 
placard  the  city  with  what  they  were  doing.  These 
were  only  a  few  of  the  things  he  threw  at  her. 

When  he  was  out  of  breath  he  jerked  the  picture  of 
the  little  house  of  mercy  out  of  his  pocket  and  flung  it 
into  her  lap. 

"There!"  he  said.  "Do  you  know  where  that 
house  is?  It's  in  a  ruined  village.  She  hasn't  said 
that,  has  she?  Well,  look  at  the  masonry  there. 
That's  a  shell  hole  in  the  street.  That  soldier's  got  a 
gun.  Why?  Because  the  Germans  may  march  up 
that  street  any  day  on  their  way  to  Calais." 

Mrs.  Gregory  looked  at  the  picture.  Sara  Lee 
smiled  into  the  sun.  And  Rene,  ignorant  that  his  sin 
gle  rifle  was  to  oppose  the  march  of  the  German 
Army  to  Calais  —  Rene  smiled  also. 

Mrs.  Gregory  rose. 

"  I  shall  report  your  view  to  the  society/'  she  said 
coldly.  "  I  understand  how  you  feel,  but  I  fail  to  see 
the  reason  for  this  attack  on  me." 

"  I  guess  you  see  all  right !  "  he  flung  at  her.  "  She's 
my  future  wife.  If  you  hadn't  put  this  nonsense  into 
her  head  we'd  be  married  now  and  she'd  be  here  in 
God's  country  and  not  living  with  a  lot  of  foreigners 
who  don't  know  a  good  woman  when  they  see  one. 
I  want  her  back,  that's  all.  But  I  want  her  back  safe. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    221, 

And  if  anything  happens  to  her  I'll  make  you  pay — - 
you  and  all  your  notoriety  hunters." 

He  went  out  then,  and  was  for  leaving  without  his 
hat  or  coat,  but  the  butler  caught  him  at  trie  door. 
Out  in  the  spring  sunlight  he  walked  rapidly,  still 
seething,  remembering  other  bitter  things  he  had  meant 
to  say,  and  repeating  them  to  himself. 

But  he  had  said  enough. 

Mrs.  Gregory's  account  of  his  visit  she  reported  at 
a  meeting  specially  called.  The  narrative  lost  nothing 
in  the  repetition.  But  the  kindly  women  who  sat  in 
the  church  house  sewing  or  knitting  listened  to  what 
Harvey  had  said  and  looked  troubled.  They  liked 
Sara  Lee,  and  many  of  them  had  daughters  of  their 
own. 

The  photograph  was  passed  around.  Undoubtedly 
Sara  Lee  was  living  in  a  ruined  village.  Certainly 
ruined  villages  were  only  found  very  near  the  Front. 
And  Rene  unquestionably  held  a  gun.  Tales  of  Ger 
man  brutalities  to  women  had  come  and  were  coming 
constantly  to  their  ears.  Mabel  Andrews  had  written 
to  them  for  supplies,  and  she  had  added  to  the  chapter 
of  horrors. 

Briefly,  the  sense  of  the  meeting  was  that  Harvey 
had  been  brutal,  but  that  he  was  right.  An  older 
woman  in  a  safe  place  they  might  continue  to  support, 
but  none  of  them  would  assume  the  responsibility  of 
the  crushing  out  of  a  young  girl's  life. 

To  be  quite  frank,  possibly  Harvey's  appeal  would 
have  carried  less  weight  had  it  not  coincided  with  Sara 


222    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Lee's  request  for  more  money.  Neither  one  alone 
would  have  brought  about  the  catastrophe,  but  alto 
gether  they  made  question  and  answer,  problem  and 
solution.  Money  was  scarce.  Demands  were  heavy. 
None  of  them  except  Mrs.  Gregory  had  more  than  just 
enough.  And  there  was  this  additional  situation  to 
face:  there  was  no  end  of  the  war  in  sight;  it  gave 
promise  now  of  going  on  indefinitely. 

Joffre  had  said,  "  I  nibble  them."  But  to  nibble  a 
hole  in  the  Germany  Army  might  take  years.  They 
had  sent  Sara  Lee  for  a  few  months.  How  about 
keeping  her  there  indefinitely? 

Oddly  enough,  it  was  Harvey's  sister  Belle  who 
made  the  only  protest  against  the  recall. 

"Of  course,  I  want  her  back,"  she  said  slowly. 
"  You'd  understand  better  if  you  had  to  live  with  Har 
vey.  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Gregory,  that  he  spoke  to  you 
as  he  did,  but  he's  nearly  crazy."  She  eyed  the  assem 
bly  with  her  tired  shrewd  eyes.  "  I'm  no  talker,"  she 
went  on,  "  but  Sara  Lee  has  done  a  big  thing.  We 
don't  realize,  I  guess,  how  big  it  is.  And  I  think  we'll 
just  about  kill  her  if  we  bring  her  home." 

"  Better  to  do  that  than  to  have  her  killed  over 
there,"  some  one  said. 

And  in  spite  of  Belle's  protest,  that  remained  the 
sense  of  the  meeting.  It  was  put  to  the  vote  and  de 
cided  to  recall  Sara  Lee.  She  could  bring  a  report  of 
conditions,  and  if  she  thought  it  wise  an  older  woman 
could  go  later,  to  a  safer  place. 

Belle  was  very  quiet  that  evening.     After  dinner  she 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     223 

went  to  Harvey's  room  and  found  him  dressing  to  go 
out. 

"  I'm  going  with  a  crowd  to  the  theater,"  he  said. 
"  First  week  of  the  summer  stock  company,  you 
know." 

He  tied  his  tie  defiantly,  avoiding  Belle's  eyes  in  the 
mirror. 

"  Harvey,"  she  said,  "  they're  going  to  bring  Sara 
Lee  home." 

He  said  nothing,  but  his  hands  shook  somewhat. 

"  And  I  think,"  Belle  said,  "  that  you  will  be  sorry 
for  what  you  have  done  —  all  the  rest  of  your  life." 


XXI 

BY  the  time  Henri  was  well  enough  to  resume  his 
former  activities  it  was  almost  the  first  of  May. 
The  winter  quiet  was  over  with  a  vengeance,  and  the 
Allies  were  hammering  hard  with  their  first  tolerably 
full  supply  of  high-explosive  shells. 

Cheering  reports  came  daily  to  the  little  house — : 
of  rapidly  augmenting  armies,  of  big  guns  on  cater 
pillar  trucks  that  were  moving  slowly  up  to  the  Allied 
Front.  Great  Britain  had  at  last  learned  her  lesson, 
that  only  shells  of  immense  destructiveness  were  of 
any  avail  against  the  German  batteries.  She  was  mov 
ing  heaven  and  earth  to  get  them,  but  the  supply  was 
still  inadequate.  With  the  new  shells  experiments 
were  being  made  in  barrage  fire  —  costly  experiments 
now  and  then ;  but  the  Allies  were  apt  in  learning  the 
ugly  game  of  modern  war. 

Only  on  the  Belgian  Front  was  there  small  change. 
The  shattered  army  was  being  freshly  outfitted.  Eng 
land  was  sending  money  and  ammunition,  and  on  the 
sand  dunes  small  bodies  of  fresh  troops  drilled  and 
smiled  grimly  and  drilled  again.  But  there  were  not, 
as  in  England  and  in  France,  great  bodies  of  young 
men  to  draw  from.  Too  many  had  been  caught  be 
yond  the  German  wall  of  steel. 

Yet  a  wave  of  renewed  courage  had  come  with  the 

225 


226    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

sun  and  the  green  fields.  And  conditions  had  im 
proved  for  the  Belgians  in  other  ways.  They  were 
being  paid,  for  one  thing,  with  something  like  regu 
larity.  Food  was  better  and  more  plentiful.  One  day 
Henri  appeared  at  the  top  of  the  street  and  drove  down 
triumphantly  a  small  undipped  horse,  which  trundled 
behind  it  a  vertical  boiler  on  wheels  with  fire  box  and 
stovepipe. 

"  A  portable  kitchen !  "  he  explained.  "  See,  here 
for  soup  and  here  for  coffee.  And  more  are  coming." 

"  Very  soon,  Henri,  they  will  not  need  me,"  Sara 
Lee  said  wistfully. 

But  he  protested  almost  violently.  He  even  put  the 
question  to  the  horse,  and  blowing  in  his  ear  made  him 
shake  his  head  in  the  negative. 

She  was  needed,  indeed.  To  the  great  base  hospital 
at  La  Panne  went  more  and  more  wounded  men.  But 
to  the  little  house  of  mercy  came  the  small  odds  and 
ends  in  increasing  numbers.  Medical  men  were  scarce, 
and  badly  overworked.  There  was  talk,  for  a  time, 
of  sending  a  surgeon  to  the  little  house,  but  it  came 
to  nothing.  La  Panne  was  not  far  away,  and  all  the 
surgeons  they  could  get  there  were  not  too  many. 

So  the  little  house  went  on  much  as  before.  Henri 
had  moved  to  the  mill.  He  was  at  work  again,  and 
one  day,  in  the  King's  villa  and  quietly,  because  of 
many  reasons,  Henri,  a  very  white  and  erect  Henri, 
received  a  second  medal,  the  highest  for  courage  that 
could  be  given. 

He  did  not  tell  Sara  Lee. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    227 

But  though  he  and  the  men  who  served  under  him 
worked  hard,  they  could  not  always  perform  miracles. 
The  German  planes  still  outnumbered  the  Allied  ones. 
They  had  grown  more  daring  with  the  spring,  too,  and 
whatever  Henri  might  learn  of  ground  operations,  he 
could  not  foretell  those  of  the  air. 

On  a  moonlight  night  in  early  May  Sara  Lee,  setting 
out  her  dressings,  heard  a  man  running  up  the  street. 
Rene  challenged  him  sharply,  only  to  step  aside.  It 
was  Henri.  He  burst  in  on  Sara  Lee. 

"  To  the  cellar,  mademoiselle!  "  he  said. 

"  A  bombardment?  "  asked  Sara  Lee. 

"  From  the  air.  They  may  pass  over,  but  there  are 
twelve  taubes,  and  they  are  circling  overhead." 

The  first  bomb  dropped  then  in  the  street.  It  was 
white  moonlight  and  the  Germans  must  have  seen  that 
there  were  no  troops.  Probably  it  was  as  Henri  said 
later,  that  they  had  learned  of  the  little  house,  and 
since  it  brought  such  aid  and  comfort  as  might  be  it 
was  to  be  destroyed. 

The  house  of  the  mill  went  with  the  second  bomb. 
Then  followed  a  deafening  uproar  as  plane  after  plane 
dropped  its  shells  on  the  dead  town.  Marie  and  Sara 
Lee  were  in  the  cellar  by  that  time,  but  the  cellar  was 
scarcely  safer  than  the  floor  above.  From  a  bombard 
ment  by  shells  from  guns  miles  away  there  was  protec 
tion.  From  a  bomb  dropped  from  the  sky,  the  floors 
above  were  practically  useless. 

Only  Henri  and  Rene  remained  on  the  street  floor. 
Henri  was  extinguishing  lights.  In  the  passage  Rene 


228     THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

stood,  not  willing  to  take  refuge  until  Henri,  whom 
he  adored,  had  done  so.  For  a  moment  the  uproar 
ceased,  and  in  a  spirit  of  bravado  Rene  stepped  out  into 
the  moonlight  and  made  a  gesture  of  derision  into  the 
air. 

He  fell  there,  struck  by  a  piece  of  splintered  shell. 

"Come,  Rene!"  Henri  called.  "The  brave  are 
those  who  live  to  fight  again,  not " 

But  Rene's  figure  against  the  moonlight  was  gone. 
Henri  ran  to  the  doorway  then  and  found  him  lying, 
his  head  on  the  little  step  where  he  had  been  wont  to 
sit  and  whittle  and  sing  his  Tipperaree.  He  was  dead. 
Henri  carried  him  in  and  laid  him  in  the  little  passage, 
very  reverently.  Then  he  went  below. 

"  Where  is  Rene  ?  "  Sara  Lee  asked  from  the  dark 
ness. 

"  A  foolish  boy/'  said  Henri,  a  catch  in  his  throat. 
"  He  is,  I  think,  watching  these  fiends  of  the  air,  from 
some  shelter." 

"  There  is  no  shelter,"  shivered  the  girl. 

He  groped  for  her  hand  in  the  darkness,  and  so  they 
stood,  hand  in  hand,  like  two  children,  waiting  for 
what  might  come. 

It  was  not  until  the  thing  was  over  that  he  told  her. 
He  had  gone  up  first  and  so  that  she  would  not  happen 
on  his  silent  figure  unwarned,  had  carried  Rene  to  the 
open  upper  floor,  where  he  lay,  singularly  peaceful, 
face  up  to  the  awful  beauty  of  the  night. 

"  Good  night,  little  brother,"  Henri  said  to  him,  and 
left  him  there  with  a  heavy  heart.  Never  again  would 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    229 

Rene  sit  and  whittle  on  the  doorstep  and  sing  his  tune 
less  Tipperaree.  Never  again  would  he  gaze  with 
boyish  adoring  eyes  at  Sara  Lee  as  she  moved  back  and 
forth  in  the  little  house. 

Henri  stared  up  at  the  skty.  The  moon  looked 
down,  cold  and  cruelly  bright,  on  the  vanishing  squad 
ron  of  death,  on  the  destroyed  town  and  on  the  boy's 
white  face.  Somewhere,  Henri  felt,  vanishing  like  the 
German  taubes,  but  to  peace  instead  of  war,  was  mov 
ing  Rene's  brave  and  smiling  spirit  —  a  boyish  angel, 
eager  and  dauntless,  and  still  looking  up. 

Henri  took  off  his  cap  and  crossed  himself. 

Another  sentry  took  Rene's  place  the  next  day,  but 
the  little  house  had  lost  something  it  could  not  regain. 
And  a  greater  loss  was  to  come. 

Jean  brought  out  the  mail  that  day.  For  Sara  Lee, 
moving  about  silent  and  red-eyed,  there  was  a  letter 
from  Mr.  Travers.  He  inclosed  a  hundred  pounds 
and  a  clipping  from  a  London  newspaper  entitled  The 
Little  House  of  Mercy. 

"  Evidently,"  he  wrote,  "  you  were  right  and  we 
were  wrong.  One-half  of  the  inclosed  check  is  from 
my  wife,  who  takes  this  method  of  showing  her  affec 
tionate  gratitude.  The  balance  is  from  myself. 
Once,  some  months  ago,  I  said  to  you  that  almost  you 
restored  my  faith  in  human  nature.  To-day  I  may  say 
that,  in  these  hours  of  sorrow  for  us  all,  what  you 
have  done  and  are  doing  has  brought  into  my  gray  day 
a  breath  of  hope." 

There  was  another  clipping,  but  no  comment.     It 


23o    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

recorded  the  death  of  a  Reginald  Alexander  Travers, 
aged  thirty. 

It  was  then  that  Sara  Lee,  who  was  by  way  of  think 
ing  for  herself  those  days,  and  of  thinking  clearly, 
recognized  the  strange  new  self-abnegation  of  the  Eng 
lish  —  their  attitude  not  so  much  of  suppressing  their 
private  griefs  as  of  refusing  to  obtrude  them.  A 
strongly  individualistic  people,  they  were  already  com 
mencing  to  think  nationally.  Grief  was  a  private  mat 
ter,  to  be  borne  privately.  To  the  world  they  must 
present  an  unbroken  front,  an  unshaken  and  unshak 
able  faith.  A  new  attitude,  and  a  strange  one,  for 
grumbling,  crochety,  gouty-souled  England. 

A  people  who  had  for  centuries  insisted  not  only  on 
its  rights  but  on  its  privileges  was  now  giving  as  freely 
as  ever  it  had  demanded.  It  was  as  though,  having 
hoarded  all  those  years,  it  had  but  been  hoarding 
against  the  day  of  payment.  As  it  had  received  it  gave 
—  in  money,  in  effort,  in  life.  And  without  pretext. 

So  the  Traverses,  having  given  up  all  that  had  made 
life  for  them,  sent  a  clipping  only,  and  no  comment. 
Sara  Lee,  through  a  mist  of  tears,  saw  them  alone  in 
their  drawing-room,  having  tea  as  usual,  and  valiantly 
speaking  of  small  things,  and  bravely  facing  the  future, 
but  never,  in  the  bitterest  moments,  making  complaint 
or  protest. 

Would  America,  she  wondered,  if  her  hour  came,  be 
so  brave?  Harvey  had  a  phrase  for  such  things.  It 
was  "  stand  the  gaff."  Would  America  stand  the  gaff 
so  well?  Courage  was  America's  watchword,  but  a 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     231 

courage  of  the  body  rather  than  of  the  soul  —  physical 
courage,  not  moral.  What  would  happen  if  America 
entered  the  struggle  and  the  papers  were  filled,  as  were 
the  British  and  the  French,  with  long  casualty  lists, 
each  name  a  knife  thrust  somewhere  ? 

She  wondered. 

And  then,  before  long,  it  was  Sara  Lee's  turn  to 
stand  the  gaff.  There  was  another  letter,  a  curiously 
incoherent  one  from  Harvey's  sister.  She  referred  to 
something  that  the  society  had  done,  and  hoped  that 
Sara  Lee  would  take  it  in  kindness,  as  it  was  meant. 
Harvey  was  well  and  much  happier.  She  was  to  try 
to  understand  Harvey's  part.  He  had  been  almost 
desperate.  Evidently  the  letter  had  preceded  one  that 
should  have  arrived  at  the  same  time.  Sara  Lee  was 
sadly  puzzled.  She  went  to  Henri  with  it,  but  he 
could  make  nothing  out  of  it.  There  was  nothing  to 
do  but  to  wait. 

The  next  night  Henri  was  to  go  through  the  lines 
again.  Since  his  wounding  he  had  been  working  on 
the  Allied  side,  and  fewer  lights  there  were  in  his  dis 
trict  that  flashed  the  treacherous  message  across  the 
flood,  between  night  and  morning.  But  now  it  was 
imperative  that  he  go  through  the  German  lines  again. 
It  was  feared  that  with  grappling  hooks  the  enemy  was 
slowly  and  cautiously  withdrawing  the  barbed  wire 
from  the  inundated  fields ;  and  that  could  mean  but  one 
thing. 

On  the  night  he  was  to  go  Henri  called  Sara  Lee 


232    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

from  the  crowded  sallc  a  manger  and  drawing  her  into 
the  room  across  closed  the  door. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  said  gravely,  "  once  before, 
long  ago,  you  permitted  me  to  kiss  you.  Will  you 
do  that  for  me  again?  ' 

She  kissed  him  at  once  gravely.  Once  she  would 
have  flushed.  She  did  not  now.  For  there  was  a 
change  in  Sara  Lee  as  well  as  in  her  outlook.  She  had 
been  seeing  for  months  the  shortness  of  life,  the  brief 
tenure  men  held  on  it,  the  value  of  such  happiness  as 
might  be  for  the  hours  that  remained.  She  was  a 
woman  now,  for  all  her  slim  young  body  and  her  charm 
of  youth.  Values  had  changed.  To  love,  and  to 
show  that  love,  to  cheer,  to  comfort  and  help  —  that 
was  necessary,  because  soon  the  chance  might  be  gone, 
and  there  would  be  long  aching  years  of  regret. 

So  she  kissed  him  gravely  and  looked  up  into  his 
eyes,  her  own  full  of  tears. 

"  God  bless  and  keep  you,  dear  Henri,"  she  said. 

Then  she  went  back  to  her  work. 


XXII 

MUCH  of  Sara  Lee's  life  at  home  had  faded.  She 
seemed  to  be  two  people.  One  was  the  girl  who 
had  knitted  the  afghan  for  Anna,  and  had  hidden  it 
away  from  Uncle  James'  kind  but  curious  eyes.  And 
one  was  this  present  Sara  Lee,  living  on  the  edge  of 
eternity,  and  seeing  men  die  or  suffer  horribly,  not  to 
gain  anything  —  except  perhaps  some  honorable  ad 
vancement  for  their  souls  —  but  that  there  might  be 
preserved,  at  any  cost,  the  right  of  honest  folk  to  labor 
in  their  fields,  to  love,  to  pray,  and  at  last  to  sleep  in 
the  peace  of  God. 

She  had  lost  the  past  and  she  dared  not  look  into 
the  future.  So  she  was  living  each  day  as  it  came, 
with  its  labor,  its  love,  its  prayers  and  at  last  its  sleep. 
Even  Harvey  seemed  remote  and  stern  and  bitter. 
She  reread  his  letters  often,  but  they  were  forced. 
And  after  a  time  she  realized  another  quality  in  them. 
They  were  self-centered.  It  was  his  anxiety,  his  lone 
liness,  his  humiliation.  Sara  Lee's  eyes  were  looking 
out,  those  days,  over  a  suffering  world.  Harvey's  eyes 
were  turned  in  on  himself. 

She  realized  this,  but  she  never  formulated  it,  even 
to  herself.  What  she  did  acknowledge  was  a  growing 
fear  of  the  reunion  which  must  come  sometime  —  that 

233 


234    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

he  was  cherishing  still  further  bitterness  against  that 
day,  that  he  would  say  things  that  he  would  regret 
later.  Sometimes  the  thought  of  that  day  came  to  her 
when  she  was  doing  a  dressing,  and  her  hands  would 
tremble. 

Henri  had  not  returned  when,  the  second  day  after 
Rene's  death,  the  letter  came  which  recalled  her.  She 
opened  it  eagerly.  Though  from  Harvey  there  usually 
came  at  the  best  veiled  reproach,  the  society  had  al 
ways  sent  its  enthusiastic  approval. 

She  read  it  twice  before  she  understood,  and  it  was 
only  when  she  read  Belle's  letter  again  that  she  began 
to  comprehend.  She  was  recalled ;  and  the  recall  was 
Harvey's  work. 

She  was  very  close  to  hating  him  that  day.  He 
had  never  understood.  She  would  go  back  to  him,  as 
she  had  promised;  but  always,  all  the  rest  of  their 
lives,  there  would  be  this  barrier  between  them.  To 
the  barrier  of  his  bitterness  would  be  added  her  own 
resentment.  She  could  never  even  talk  to  him  of  her 
work,  of  those  great  days  when  in  her  small  way  she 
had  felt  herself  a  part  of  the  machinery  of  mercy  of 
the  war. 

Harvey  had  lost  something  out  of  Sara  Lee's  love 
for  him.  He  had  done  it  himself,  madly,  despairingly. 
She  still  loved  him,  she  felt.  Nothing  could  change 
that  or  her  promise  to  him.  But  with  that  love  there 
was  something  now  of  fear.  And  she  felt,  too,  that 
after  all  the  years  she  had  known  him  she  had  not 
known  him  at  all.  The  Harvey  she  had  known  was  a 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     235 

tender  and  considerate  man,  soft-spoken,  slow  to 
wrath,  always  gentle.  But  the  Harvey  of  his  letters 
and  of  the  recall  was  a  stranger. 

It  was  the  result  of  her  upbringing,  probably,  that 
she  had  no  thought  of  revolt.  Her  tie  to  Harvey  was 
a  real  tie.  By  her  promise  to  him  her  life  was  no 
longer  hers  to  order.  It  belonged  to  some  one  else,  to 
be  ordered  for  her.  But,  though  she  accepted,  she  was 
too  clear  a  thinker  not  to  resent. 

When  Henri  returned,  toward  dawn  of  the  follow 
ing  night,  he  did  not  come  alone.  Sara  Lee,  rising 
early,  found  two  men  in  her  kitchen  —  one  of  them 
Henri,  who  was  making  coffee,  and  a  soldier  in  a  gray- 
green  uniform,  with  a  bad  bruise  over  one  e}re  and  a 
sulky  face.  His  hands  were  tied,  but  otherwise  he  sat 
at  ease,  and  Henri,  having  made  the  coffee,  held  a  cup 
to  his  lips. 

"  It  is  good  for  the  spirits,  man,"  he  said  in  German. 
"  Drink  it." 

The  German  took  it,  first  gingerly,  then  eagerly. 
Henri  was  in  high  good  humor. 

"  See,  I  have  brought  you  a  gift!  "  he  exclaimed  on 
seeing  Sara  Lee.  "  What  shall  we  do  with  him  ? 
Send  him  to  America?  To  show  the  appearance  of 
the  madmen  of  Europe?  " 

The  prisoner  was  only  a  boy,  such  a  boy  as  Henri 
himself ;  but  a  peasant,  and  muscular.  Beside  his  bulk 
Henri  looked  slim  as  a  reed.  Henri  eyed  him  with  a 
certain  tolerant  humor. 

"  He  is  young,  and  a  Bavarian,"  he  said.     "  Other- 


236     THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

wise  I  should  have  killed  him,  for  he  fought  hard. 
He  has  but  just  been  called." 

There  was  another  conference  in  the  little  house  that 
morning,  but  Henri's  prisoner  could  tell  little.  He 
had  heard  nothing  of  an  advance.  Further  along  the 
line  it  was  said  that  there  was  much  fighting.  He  sat 
there,  pale  and  bewildered  and  very  civil,  and  in  the 
end  his  frightened  politeness  brought  about  a  change 
in  the  attitude  of  the  men  who  questioned  him.  Hate 
all  Germans  as  they  must,  who  had  suffered  so  grossly, 
this  boy  was  not  of  those  who  had  outraged  them. 

They  sent  him  on  at  last,  and  Sara  Lee  was  free  to 
tell  Henri  her  news.  But  she  had  grown  very  wise 
as  to  Henri's  moods,  and  she  hesitated.  A  certain  dis 
satisfaction  had  been  growing  in  the  boy  for  some 
time,  a  sense  of  hopelessness.  Further  along  the 
spring  had  brought  renewed  activity  to  the  Allied 
armies.  Great  movements  were  taking  place. 

But  his  own  men  stood  in  their  trenches,  or  what 
passed  for  trenches,  or  lay  on  their  hours  of  relief  in 
such  wretched  quarters  as  could  be  found,  still  with  no 
prospect  of  action.  No  great  guns,  drawn  by  heavy 
tractors,  came  down  the  roads  toward  the  trenches  by 
the  sea.  Steady  bombarding,  incessant  sniping  and  no 
movement  on  either  side  —  that  was  the  Belgian  Front 
during  the  first  year  of  the  war.  Inaction,  with  that 
eating  anxiety  as  to  what  was  going  on  in  the  occupied 
territory,  was  the  portion  of  the  heroic  small  army  that 
stretched  from  Nieuport  to  Dixmude. 

And  Henri's  nerves  were  not  good.     He  was  un- 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    237 

happy  —  that  always  —  and  he  was  not  yet  quite  re 
covered  from  his  wounds.  There  was  on  his  mind, 
too,  a  certain  gun  which  moved  on  a  railway  track, 
back  and  forth,  behind  the  German  lines,  doing  the 
work  of  many.  He  had  tried  to  get  to  that  gun,  and 
failed.  And  he  hated  failure. 

Certainly  in  this  story  of  Sara  Lee  and  of  Henri, 
whose  other  name  must  not  be  known,  allowance  must 
be  made  for  all  those  things.  Yet  —  perhaps  no  al 
lowance  is  enough. 

Sara  Lee  told  him  that  evening  of  her  recall,  told 
him  when  the  shuffling  of  many  feet  in  the  street  told 
of  the  first  weary  men  from  the  trenches  coming  up 
the  road. 

He  heard  her  in  a  dazed  silence.     Then : 

"  But  you  will  not  go  ?  "  he  said.  "  It  is  impossi 
ble  !  You  —  you  are  needed,  mademoiselle." 

"  What  can  I  do,  Henri  ?  They  have  recalled  me. 
My  money  will  not  come  now." 

"  Perhaps  we  can  arrange  that.  It  does  not  cost  so 
much.  I  have  friends  —  and  think,  mademoiselle, 
how  many  know  now  of  what  you  are  doing,  and  love 
you  for  it.  Some  of  them  would  contribute,  surely." 

He  was  desperately  revolving  expedients  in  his  mind. 
He  could  himself  do  no  more  than  he  had  done. 
He,  or  rather  Jean  and  he  together,  had  been  bearing 
a  full  half  of  the  expense  of  the  little  house  since  the 
beginning.  But  he  dared  not  tell  her  that.  And 
though  he  spoke  hopefully,  he  knew  well  that  he  could 


238    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

raise  nothing  from  the  Belgians  he  knew  best.  Henri 
came  of  a  class  that  held  its  fortunes  'in  land,  and  that 
land  was  now  in  German  hands. 

"  We  will  arrange  it  somehow,"  he  said  with  forced 
cheerfulness.  "  No  beautiful  thing  —  and  this  is 
surely  beautiful — must  die  because  of  money." 

It  was  then  that  Sara  Lee  took  the  plunge. 

"  It  is  not  only  money,  Henri." 

"  He  has  sent  for  you !  " 

Harvey  was  always  "  he  "  to  Henri. 

"  Not  exactly.  But  I  think  he  went  to  some  one 
and  said  I  should  not  be  here  alone.  You  can  under 
stand  how  he  feels.  We  were  going  to  be  married 
very  soon,  and  then  I  decided  to  come.  It  made  an 
awful  upset." 

Henri  stood  with  folded  arms  and  listened.  At  first 
he  said  nothing.  When  he  spoke  it  was  in  a  voice  of 
ominous  calm: 

"  So  for  a  stupid  convention  he  would  destroy  this 
beautiful  thing  you  have  made!  Does  he  know  your 
work  ?  Does  he  know  what  you  are  to  the  men  here  ? 
Have  you  ever  told  him  ?  " 

"  I  have,  of  course,  but " 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  back?  " 

"  No,  Henri.     Not  yet.     I " 

'  That  is  enough.  You  are  needed.  You  are  willing 
to  stay.  I  shall  attend  to  the  money.  It  is  arranged." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  said  Sara  Lee  desperately. 
"  I  am  engaged  to  him.  I  can't  wreck  his  life,  can  I  ?  " 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    239 

"  Would  it  wreck  your  life  ?  "  he  demanded.  "  Tell 
me  that  and  I  shall  know  how  to  reason  with  you." 

But  she  only  looked  at  him  helplessly. 

Heavy  tramping  in  the  passage  told  of  the  arrival  of 
the  first  men.  They  did  not  talk  and  laugh  as  usual. 
As  well  as  they  could  they  came  quietly.  For  Rene 
had  been  a  good  friend  to  many  of  them,  and  had  ad 
mitted  on  slack  nights  many  a  weary  man  who  had  no 
ticket.  Much  as  the  neighbors  had  entered  the  house 
back  home  after  Uncle  James  had  gone  away,  came 
these  bearded  men  that  night.  And  Sara  Lee,  hearing 
their  muffled  voices,  brushed  a  hand  over  her  eyes  and 
tried  to  smile. 

"We  can  talk  about  it  later,"  she  said.  "We 
mustn't  quarrel.  I  owe  so  much  to  you,  Henri." 

Suddenly  Henri  caught  her  by  the  arm  and  turned 
her  about  so  that  she  faced  the  lamp. 

"Do  you  love  him?"  he  demanded.  "Sara  Lee, 
look  at  me !  "  Only  he  pronounced  it  Saralie.  "  He 
has  done  a  very  cruel  thing.  Do  you  still  love  him?  " 

Sara  Lee  shut  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  think  I  do.  He  is  very  unhappy, 
and  it  is  my  fault." 

"Your  fault!" 

"  I  must  go,  Henri.     The  men  are  waiting." 

But  he  still  held  her  arm. 

"  Does  he  love  you  as  I  love  you?  "  he  demanded. 
"Would  he  die  for  you?" 

"  That's  rather  silly,  isn't  it?  Men  don't  die  for  the 
people  they  love." 


24o    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  I  would  die  for  you,  Saralie." 

She  eyed  him  rather  helplessly. 

"  I  don't  think  you  mean  that."  Bad  strategy  that, 
for  he  drew  her  to  him.  His  arms  were  like  steel,  and 
it  was  a  rebellious  and  very  rigid  Sara  Lee  who  found 
she  could  not  free  herself. 

"  I  would  die  for  you,  Saralie !  "  he  repeated  fiercely. 
"  That  would  be  easier,  far,  thiin  living  without  you. 
There  is  nothing  that  matters  but  you.  Listen  —  I 
would  put  everything  I  have  —  my  honor,  my  life,  my 
hope  of  eternity  —  on  one  side  of  the  scale  and  you  on 
the  other.  And  I  would  choose  you.  Is  that  love  ?  " 
He  freed  her. 

"  It's  insanity,"  said  Sara  Lee  angrily.  "  You  don't 
mean  it.  And  I  don't  want  that  kind  of  love,  if  that 
is  what  you  call  it." 

"  And  you  will  go  back  to  that  man  who  loves  him 
self  better  than  he  loves  you?" 

"That's  not  true!"  she  flashed  at  him.  "He  is 
sending  for  me,  not  to  get  me  back  to  him,  but  to  get 
me  back  to  safety." 

"  What  sort  of  safety?  "  Henri  demanded  in  an  om 
inous  tone.  "  Is  he  afraid  of  me?  " 

"  He  doesn't  know  anything  about  you." 

"You  have  never  told  him?  Why?"  His  eyes 
narrowed. 

"  He  wouldn't  have  understood,  Henri." 

"  You  are  going  back  to  him,"  he  said  slowly ;  "  and 
you  will  always  keep  these  days  of  ours  buried  in  your 
heart.  Is  that  it?"  His  eyes  softened.  "I  am  to 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    241 

be  a  memory!  Do  you  know  what  I  think?  I  think 
you  care  for  me  more  than  you  know.  We  have  lived 
a  lifetime  together  in  these  months.  You  know  me 
better  than  you  know  him,  already.  We  have  faced 
death  together.  That  is  a  strong  tie.  And  I  have 
held  you  in  my  arms.  Do  you  think  you  can  forget 
that?" 

"  I  shall  never  want  to  forget  you." 

"  I  shall  not  let  you  forget  me.  You  may  go  —  I 
cannot  prevent  that  perhaps.  But  wherever  I  am; 
Saralie,  I  shall  stand  between  that  lover  of  yours  and 
you.  And  sometime  I  shall  come  from  this  other  side 
of  the  world,  and  I  shall  find  you,  and  you  will  come 
back  with  me.  Back  to  this  country  —  our  country." 

They  were  boyish  words,  but  back  of  them  was  the 
iron  determination  of  a  man.  His  eyes  seemed  sunken 
in  his  head.  His  face  was  white.  But  there  was  al 
most  a  prophetic  ring  in  his  voice. 

Sara  Lee  went  out  and  left  him  there,  went  out 
rather  terrified  and  bewildered,  and  refusing  absolutely 
to  look  into  her  own  heart. 


XXIII 

LATE  in  May  she  started  for  home.  It  had  not 
been  necessary  to  close  the  little  house.  An  Eng 
lishwoman  of  mature  years  and  considerable  wealth, 
hearing  from  Mr.  Travers  of  Sara  Lee's  recall,  went 
out  a  day  or  two  before  she  left  and  took  charge.  She 
was  a  kindly  woman,  in  deep  mourning;  and  some  of 
the  ache  left  Sara  Lee's  heart  when  she  had  talked  with 
her  successor. 

Perhaps,  too,  Mrs.  Cameron  understood  some  of  the 
things  that  had  puzzled  her  before.  She  had  been  a 
trifle  skeptical  perhaps  about  Sara  Lee  before  she  saw 
her.  A  young  girl  alone  among  an  army  of  men! 
She  was  a  good  woman  herself,  and  not  given  to  harsh 
judgments,  but  the  thing  had  seemed  odd.  But  Sara 
Lee  in  her  little  house,  as  virginal,  as  without  sex- 
consciousness  as  a  child,  Sara  Lee  with  her  shabby 
clothes  and  her  stained  hands  and  her  honest  eyes  — 
this  was  not  only  a  good  girl,  this  was  a  brave  and  high- 
spirited  and  idealistic  woman. 

And  after  an  evening  in  the  house  of  mercy,  with 
the  soldiers  openly  adoring  and  entirely  respectful, 
Mrs.  Cameron  put  her  arms  round  Sara  Lee  and  kissed 
her. 

"You  must  let  me  thank  you,"  she  said.  "You 

have  made  me  feel  what  I  have  not  felt  since " 

243 


244    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

She  stopped.  Her  mourning  was  only  a  month  old. 
"  I  see  to-night  that,  after  all,  many  things  may  be 
gone,  but  that  \\4iile  service  remains  there  is  something 
worth  while  in  life." 

The  next  day  she  asked  Sara  Lee  to  stay  with  her, 
at  least  through  the  summer.  Sara  Lee  hesitated,  but 
at  last  she  agreed  to  cable.  As  Henri  had  disappeared 
with  the  arrival  of  Mrs.  Cameron  it  was  that  lady's 
chauffeur  who  took  the  message  to  Dunkirk  and  sent  it 
off. 

She  had  sent  the  cable  to  Harvey.  It  was  no  longer 
a  matter  of  the  Ladies'  Aid.  It  was  between  Harvey 
and  herself. 

The  reply  came  on  the  second  day.  It  was  curt  and 
decisive. 

"  Now  or  never,"  was  the  message  Harvey  sent  out 
of  his  black  despair,  across  the  Atlantic  to  the  little 
house  so  close  under  the  guns  of  Belgium. 

Henri  was  half  mad  those  last  days.  Jean  tried  to 
counsel  him,  but  he  was  irritable,  almost  savage.  And 
Jean  understood.  The  girl  had  grown  deep  into  his 
own  heart.  Like  Henri,  he  believed  that  she  was 
going  back  to  unhappiness;  he  even  said  so  to  her  in 
the  car,  on  that  last  sad  day  when  Sara  Lee,  having 
visited  Rene's  grave  and  prayed  in  the  ruined  church, 
said  good-by  to  the  little  house,  and  went  away,  tear 
less  at  the  last,  because  she  was  too  sad  for  tears. 

It  was  not  for  some  time  that  Jean  spoke  what  was 
in  his  mind,  and  when  he  had  done  so  she  turned  to 
him  gravely : 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     245 

"  You  are  wrong,  Jean.  He  is  the  kindest  of  men. 
Once  I  am  back,  and  safe,  he  will  be  very  different. 
I'm  afraid  I've  given  you  a  wrong  impression  of 
him." 

"  You  think  then,  mademoiselle,  that  he  will  forget 
all  these  months  —  he  will  never  be  unhappy  over 
them?" 

"Why  should  he?"  said  Sara  Lee  proudly. 
"  When  I  tell  him  everything  he  will  understand. 
And  he  will  be  very  proud  that  I  have  done  my  share." 

But  Jean's  one  eye  was  dubious. 

At  the  wharf  in  Dunkirk  they  found  Henri,  a  pale 
but  composed  Henri.  Jean's  brows  contracted.  He 
had  thought  that  the  boy  would  follow  his  advice  and 
stay  away.  But  Henri  was  there. 

It  was  as  well,  perhaps,  for  Sara  Lee  had  brought 
him  a  letter,  one  of  those  missives  from  the  trenches 
which  had  been  so  often  left  at  the  little  house. 

Henri  thrust  it  into  his  pocket  without  reading  it. 

"  Everything  is  prepared,"  he  said.  "  It  is  the  Brit 
ish  Admiralty  boat,  and  one  of  the  officers  has  offered 
his  cabin.  You  will  be  quite  comfortable." 

He  appeared  entirely  calm.  He  saw  to  carrying 
Sara  Lee's  small  bag  on  board;  he  chatted  with  the 
officers;  he  even  wandered  over  to  a  hospital  ship 
moored  near  by  and  exchanged  civilities  with  a 
wounded  man  in  a  chair  on  the  deck.  Perhaps  he 
swaggered  a  bit  too  much.,  for  Jean  watched  him  with 
some  anxiety.  He  saw  that  the  boy  was  taking  it 
hard.  His  eyes  were  very  sunken  now,  and  he  moved 


246    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

his  right  arm  stiffly,  as  though  the  old  wound  troubled 
him. 

Jean  did  not  like  leave-takings.  Particularly  he  did 
not  like  taking  leave  of  Sara  Lee.  Some  time  before 
the  boat  sailed  he  kissed  her  hand,  and  then  patted  it 
and  went  away  in  the  car  without  looking  back. 

The  boat  was  preparing  to  get  under  way.  Henri 
was  standing  by  her  very  quietly.  He  had  not  slep. 
the  night  before,  but  then  there  were  many  nights  when 
Henri  did  not  sleep.  He  had  wandered  about,  smok 
ing  incessantly,  trying  to  picture  the  black  future. 

He  could  see  no  hope  anywhere.  America  was  far 
away,  and  peaceful.  Very  soon  the  tranquillity  of  it 
all  would  make  the  last  months  seem  dreamlike  and  un 
real.  She  would  forget  Belgium,  forget  him.  Or  she 
would  remember  him  as  a  soldier  who  had  once  loved 
her.  Once  loved  her,  because  she  had  never  seemed 
to  realize  the  lasting  quality  of  his  love.  She  had  al 
ways  felt  that  he  would  forget  her.  If  he  could  only 
make  her  believe  that  he  would  not,  it  would  not  be  so 
hopeless. 

He  had  written  a  bit  of  a  love  letter  on  the  little 
table  at  Dunkirk  that  morning,  written  it  with  the  hope 
that  the  sight  of  the  written  words  might  carry  convic 
tion  where  all  his  protests  had  failed. 

"  I  shall  love  you  all  the  years  of  my  life,"  he  wrote. 
"  At  any  time,  in  any  place,  you  may  come  to  me  and 
know  that  I  am  waiting.  Great  love  like  this  comes 
only  once  to  any  man,  and  once  come  to  him  it  never 
goes  away.  At  any  time  in  the  years  to  come  you  may 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    247 

know  with  certainty  that  you  are  still  to  me  what  you 
are  now,  the  love  of  my  life. 

"  Sometimes  I  think,  dearest  —  I  may  call  you  that 
once,  now  that  you  have  left  me  —  that  far  away  you 
will  hear  this  call  of  mine  and  come  back  to  me.  Per 
haps  you  will  never  come.  Perhaps  I  shall  not  live. 
I  feel  to-day  that  I  do  not  care  greatly  to  live. 

"If  that  is  to  be,  then  think  of  me  somewhere,  per 
haps  with  Rene  by  my  side,  since  he,  too,  loved  you. 
And  I  shall  still  be  calling  you,  and  waiting.  Perhaps 
even  beyond  the  stars  they  have  need  of  a  little  house 
of  mercy;  and,  God  knows,  wherever  I  am  I  shall  have 
need  of  you/' 

He  had  the  letter  in  the  pocket  of  his  tunic,  and  at 
last  the  moment  came  when  the  boat  must  leave. 
Suddenly  Henri  knew  that  he  could  not  allow  her  to 
cross  to  England  alone.  The  last  few  days  had 
brought  many  stories  of  submarine  attacks.  Here,  so 
far  north,  the  Germans  were  particularly  active.  They 
had  for  a  long  time  lurked  in  waiting  for  this  British 
Admiralty  boat,  with  its  valuable  cargo,  its  officers  and 
the  government  officials  who  used  it. 

"  Good-by,  Henri/'  said  Sara  Lee.  "I  —  of  course 
it  is  no  use  to  try  to  tell  you " 

"  I  am  going  across  with  you." 

«  But " 

"  I  allowed  you  to  come  over  alone.  I  shiver  when 
I  think  of  it.  I  shall  take  you  back  myself." 

"  Is  it  very  dangerous  ?  " 

"  Probably  not.     But  can  you  think  of  me  standing 


248    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

safe  on  that  quay  and  letting  you  go  into  danger 
alone?" 

"  I  am  not  afraid/' 

"  I  know  that.  I  have  never  seen  you  afraid.  But 
if  you  wish  to  see  a  coward,  look  at  me.  I  am  a  cow 
ard  for  you." 

He  put  his  hand  into  his  pocket.  It  occurred  to  him 
to  give  her  the  letter  now  so  that  if  anything  happened 
she  would  at  least  have  had  it.  He  wanted  no  mistake 
about  that  appointment  beyond  the  stars.  But  the 
great  world  of  eternity  was  very  large,  and  they  must 
have  a  definite  understanding  about  that  meeting  at 
the  little  house  of  mercy  Over  There. 

Perhaps  he  had  a  little  fever  that  day.  He  was  al 
ternately  flushed  and  pale;  and  certainly  he  was  not 
quite  rational.  His  hand  shook  as  he  brought  out  her 
letter  —  and  with  it  the  other  letter,  from  the  Front. 

"  Have  you  the  time  to  come  with  me?  "  Sara  Lee 
asked  doubtfully.  "  I  want  you  to  come,  of  course, 
but  if  your  work  will  suffer " 

He  held  out  his  letter  to  her. 

"  I  shall  go  away,"  he  said,  "  while  you  read  it. 
And  perhaps  you  will  not  destroy  it,  because  —  I 
should  like  to  feel  that  you  have  it  always." 

He  went  away  at  once,  saluting  as  he  passed  other 
officers,  who  gravely  saluted  him.  On  the  deck  of  the 
hospital  ship  the  invalid  touched  his  cap.  Word  was 
going  about,  in  the  stealthy  manner  of  such  things,  that 
Henri,  whose  family  name  we  may  not  know,  was  a 
brave  man  and  doing  brave  things. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    249 

The  steamer  had  not  yet  cast  off.  As  usual,  it  was 
to  take  a  flying  start  from  the  harbor,  for  it  was  just 
outside  the  harbor  that  the  wolves  of  the  sea  lay  in 
wait.  Henri,  alone  at  last,  opened  his  letter,  and 
stood  staring  at  it.  There  was  again  movement  behind 
the  German  line,  a  matter  to  be  looked  into,  as  only 
he  could  do  it.  Probably  nothing,  as  before ;  but  who 
could  say? 

Henri  looked  along  the  shore  to  where  but  a  few 
miles  away  lay  the  ragged  remnant  of  his  country. 
And  he  looked  forward  to  where  Sara  Lee,  his  letter 
in  her  hand,  was  staring  blindly  at  nothing.  Then  he 
looked  out  toward  the  sea,  where  lay  who  knew  what 
dangers  of  death  and  suffering. 

After  that  first  moment  of  indecision  he  never  hesi 
tated.  He  stood  on  the  deck  and  watched,  rather 
frozen  and  rigid,  and  with  a  mind  that  had  ceased 
working,  while  the  steamer  warped  out  from  the  quay. 
If  in  his  subconsciousness  there  was  any  thought  it 
was  doubtless  that  he  had  done  his  best  for  a  long  time, 
and  that  he  had  earned  the  right  to  protect  for  a  few 
hours  the  girl  he  loved.  That,  too,  there  had  been 
activity  along  the  German-Belgian  line  before,  without 
result. 

Perhaps  subconsciously  those  things  were  there. 
He  himself  was  conscious  of  no  thought,  of  only  a 
dogged  determination  to  get  Sara  Lee  across  the  chan 
nel  safely.  He  put  everything  else  behind  him.  He 
counted  no  cost. 

The  little  admiralty  boat  sped  on.     In  the  bow,  on 


250    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

the  bridge,  and  at  different  stations  lookouts  kept 
watch.  The  lifeboats  were  hung  overboard,  ready  to 
lower  instantly.  On  the  horizon  a  British  destroyer 
steamed  leisurely.  Henri  stood  for  a  long  time  on  the 
deck.  The  land  fell  away  quickly.  From  a  clear 
silhouette  of  the  town  against  the  sky  —  the  dunes,  the 
spire  of  the  cathedral,  the  roof  of  the  mairic  —  it  be 
came  vague,  shadowy  —  the  height  of  a  hand  —  a  line 
—  nothing. 

Henri  roused  himself.  He  was  very  thirsty,  and 
the  wound  in  his  arm  ached.  When  he  raised  his  hand 
to  salute  the  movement  was  painful. 

It  was  a  very  grave  Sara  Lee  he  found  in  the  officer's 
cabin  when  he  went  inside  later  on.  She  was  sitting 
on  the  long  seat  below  the  open  port,  her  hat  slightly 
askew  and  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap.  Her  bag  was 
beside  her,  and  there  was  in  her  eyes  a  perplexity  Henri 
was  too  wretched  to  notice. 

For  the  first  time  Sara  Lee  was  realizing  the  full 
value  of  the  thing  she  was  throwing  away.  She  had 
persistently  discounted  it  until  now.  She  had  been 
grateful  for  it.  She  had  felt  unworthy  of  it.  But 
now,  on  the  edge  of  leaving  it,  she  felt  that  something 
infinitely  precious  and  very  beautiful  was  going  out 
of  her  life.  She  had  already  a  sense  of  loss. 

For  the  first  time,  too,  she  was  allowing  herself  to 
think  of  certain  contingencies  that  were  now  forever 
impossible.  For  instance,  suppose  she  had  stayed 
with  Mrs.  Cameron?  Suppose  she  had  broken  her 
promise  to  Harvey  and  remained  at  the  little  house? 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    251 

Suppose  she  had  done  as  Henri  had  so  wildly  urged 
her,  and  had  broken  entirely  with  Harvey?  Would 
she  have  married  Henri  ? 

There  was  a  certain  element  of  caution  in  the  girl. 
It  made  the  chances  she  had  taken  rather  more  cour 
ageous,  indeed,  because  she  had  always  counted  the 
cost.  But  marriage  was  not  a  matter  for  taking 
chances.  One  should  know  not  only  the  man,  but  his 
setting,  though  she  would  not  have  thought  of  it  in  that 
way.  Not  only  the  man,  but  the  things  that  made  up 
his  life  —  his  people,  his  home. 

And  Henri  was  to  her  still  a  figure,  not  so  much  now 
of  mystery  as  of  detachment.  Except  Jean  he  had  no 
intimates.  He  had  no  family  on  the  only  side  of  the 
line  she  knew.  He  had  not  even  a  country. 

She  had  reached  that  point  when  Henri  came  below 
and  saluted  her  stiffly  from  the  doorway. 

"  Henri !  "  she  said.     "  I  believe  you  are  ill !  " 

"  I  am  not  ill,"  he  said,  and  threw  himself  into  the 
corner  of  the  seat.  "  You  have  read  it  ?  " 

She  nodded.  Even  thinking  of  it  brought  a  lump 
into  her  throat.  He  bent  forward,  but  he  did  not 
touch  her. 

"  I  meant  it,  Saralie,"  he  said.  "  Sometimes  men 
are  infatuated,  and  write  what  they  do  not  mean. 

They  are  sincere  at  the  time,  and  then  later  on 

But  I  meant  it.  I  shall  always  mean  it." 

Not  then,  nor  during  the  three  days  in  London,  did 
he  so  much  as  take  her  hand.  He  was  not  well.  He 
ate  nothing,  and  at  night  he  lay  awake  and  drank  a 


252    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

great  deal  of  water.  Once  or  twice  he  found  her  look 
ing  at  him  anxiously,  but  he  disclaimed  all  illness. 

He  had  known  from  the  beginning  what  he  was  do 
ing.  But  he  did  not  touch  her,  because  in  his  heart  he 
knew  that  where  once  he  had  been  worthy  he  was  no 
longer  worthy.  He  had  left  his  work  for  a  woman. 

It  is  true  that  he  had  expected  to  go  back  at  once. 
But  the  Philadelphia,  which  had  been  listed  to  sail  the 
next  day,  was  held  up  by  a  strike  in  Liverpool,  and  he 
waited  on,  taking  such  hours  as  she  could  give  him, 
feverishly  anxious  to  make  her  happy,  buying  her  little 
gifts  —  mostly  flowers,  which  she  wore  tucked  in  her 
belt  and  smiled  over,  because  she  had  never  before  re 
ceived  flowers  from  a  man. 

He  was  alternately  gay  and  silent.  They  walked 
across  the  Thames  by  the  Parliament  buildings,  and 
midway  across  he  stopped  and  looked  long  at  the 
stream.  And  they  went  to  the  Zoological  Gardens, 
where  he  gravely  named  one  of  the  sea  lions  for 
Colonel  Lilias  because  of  its  mustache,  and  insisted 
on  saluting  it  each  time  before  he  flung  it  a  fish.  Once 
he  soberly  gathered  up  a  very  new  baby  camel,  all  legs, 
in  his  arms,  and  presented  it  to  her. 

"  Please  accept  it,  mademoiselle,"  he  said.  "  With 
my  compliments." 

They  dined  together  every  night,  very  modestly,  sit 
ting  in  some  crowded  restaurant  perhaps,  but  seeing 
little  but  each  other.  Sara  Lee  had  bought  a  new  hat 
in  London  —  black,  of  course,  but  faced  with  white. 
He  adored  her  in  it.  He  would  sit  for  long  moments, 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     253 

his  elbows  propped  on  the  table,  his  blond  hair  gleam 
ing  in  the  candlelight,  and  watch  her. 

"  I  wonder,"  he  said  once,  "  if  you  had  never  met 
him  would  you  have  loved  me  ?  " 

"  I  do  love  you,  Henri." 

"  I  don't  want  that  sort  of  love."  And  he  had 
turned  his  head  away. 

But  one  evening  he  called  for  her  at  Morley's,  a 
white  and  crushed  boy,  needing  all  that  she  could  give 
him  and  much  more.  He  came  as  a  man  goes  to  the 
woman  he  loves  when  he  is  in  trouble,  much  as  a  child 
to  his  mother.  Sara  Lee,  coming  down  to  the  recep 
tion  room,  found  him  alone  there,  walking  rapidly  up 
and  down.  He  turned  desperate  eyes  on  her. 

"  I  have  brought  bad  news,"  he  said  abruptly. 

"The  little  house " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  ran  away,  mademoiselle.  I  am 
a  traitor.  And  the  Germans  broke  through  last 
night." 

"Henri!" 

"  They  broke  through.  We  were  not  ready.  That 
is  what  I  have  done." 

"  Don't  you  think,"  Sara  Lee  said  in  a  frozen  voice, 
"  that  is  what  I  have  done  ?  I  let  you  come." 

"  You  ?  You  are  taking  the  blame  ?  Mademoi 
selle,  I  have  enough  to  bear  without  that." 

He  explained  further,  still  standing  in  his  rigid  atti 
tude.  If  he  had  been  white  before  at  times  he  was 
ghastly  now.  It  had  not  been  an  attack  in  force.  A 
small  number  had  got  across  and  had  penetrated  be- 


254    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

yond  the  railway  line.  There  had  been  hand-to-hand 
fighting  in  the  road  beyond  the  poplars.  But  it  looked 
more  like  an  experiment,  an  endeavor  to  discover  the 
possibility  of  a  real  advance  through  the  inundation; 
or  perhaps  a  feint  to  cover  operations  elsewhere. 

"  For  every  life  lost  I  am  responsible/'  he  ended  in 
a  flat  and  lifeless  tone. 

"  But  you  might  not  have  known,"  she  protested 
wildly.  "  Even  if  you  had  been  there,  Henri,  you 
might  not  have  known."  She  knew  something  of  war 
by  that  time.  "  How  could  you  have  told  that  a  small 
movement  of  troops  was  to  take  place  ?  " 

"  I  should  have  been  there." 

"  But  —  if  they  came  without  warning?  " 

"  I  did  not  tell  you,"  he  said,  looking  away  from 
her.  "  There  had  been  a  warning.  I  disregarded  it." 

He  went  back  to  Belgium  that  night.  Sara  Lee,  at 
the  last,  held  out  her  hand.  She  was  terrified  for  him, 
and  she  showed  it. 

"  I  shall  not  touch  your  hand,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
forfeited  my  right  to  do  that."  Then,  seeing  what  was 
in  her  face,  he  reassured  her.  "  I  shall  not  do  that'' 
he  said.  "  It  would  be  easier.  But  I  shall  have  to  go 
back  and  see  what  can  be  done." 

He  was  the  old  Henri  to  the  last,  however.  He 
went  carefully  over  her  steamship  ticket,  and  inquired 
with  equal  care  into  the  amount  of  money  she  had. 

"  It  will  take  you  home?  "  he  asked. 

"  Very  comfortably,  Henri." 

"  It  seems  very  Httle." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    255 

Then  he  said,  apropos  of  nothing:  "  Poor  Jean!  " 
When  he  left  her  at  last  he  went  to  the  door,  very 
erect  and  soldierly.  But  he  turned  there  and  stood  for 
a  moment  looking  at  her,  as  though  through  all  that 
was  coming  he  must  have  with  him,  to  give  him 
strength,  that  final  picture  of  her. 

The  elderly  chambermaid,  coming  into  Sara  Lee's 
room  the  next  morning,  found  her  fully  dressed  in 
the  frock  she  had  worn  the  night  before,  face  down 
on  her  bed. 


XXIV 

IT  was  early  in  June  when  at  last  the  lights  went 
down  behind  the  back  drop  and  came  up  in  front, 
to  show  Sara  Lee  knitting  again,  though  not  by  the 
fire.  The  amazing  interlude  was  over. 

Over,  except  in  Sara  Lee's  heart.  The  voyage  had 
been  a  nightmare.  She  had  been  ill  for  one  thing  — 
a  combination  of  seasickness  and  heartsickness.  She 
had  allowed  Henri  to  come  to  England  with  her,  and 
the  Germans  had  broken  through.  All  the  good  she 
had  done  —  and  she  had  helped  —  was  nothing  to  this 
mischief  she  had  wrought. 

It  had  been  a  small  raid.  She  gathered  that  from 
the  papers  on  board,.  But  that  was  not  the  vital 
thing.  What  mattered  was  that  she  had  let  a  man  for 
get  his  duty  to  his  country  in  his  solicitude  for  her. 

But  as  the  days  went  on  the  excitement  of  her  return 
dulled  the  edge  of  her  misery  somewhat.  The  thing 
was  done.  She  could  do  only  one  thing  to  help.  She 
would  never  go  back,  never  again  bring  trouble  and 
suffering  where  she  had  meant  only  to  bring  aid  and 
comfort. 

She  had  a  faint  hope  that  Harvey  would  meet 
her  at  the  pier.  She  needed  comforting  and  soothing, 
and  perhaps  a  bit  of  praise.  She  was  so  very  tired; 
depressed,  too,  if  the  truth  be  known.  She  needed  a 

257 


258    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

hand  to  lead  her  back  to  her  old  place  on  the  stage,  and 
kind  faces  to  make  her  forget  that  she  had  ever  gone 
away. 

Because  that  was  what  she  had  to  do.  She  must 
forget  Henri  and  the  little  house  on  the  road  to  the 
poplar  trees;  and  most  of  all,  she  must  forget  that  be 
cause  of  her  Henri  had  let  the  Germans  through. 

But  Harvey  did  not  meet  her.  There  was  a  tele 
gram  saying  he  would  meet  her  train  if  she  wired  when 
she  was  leaving  —  an  exultant  message  breathing  for 
giveness  and  signed  "  with  much  love."  She  flushed 
when  she  read  it. 

Of  course  he  could  not  meet  her  in  New  York. 
This  was  not  the  Continent  in  wartime,  where  conven 
tion  had  died  of  a  great  necessity.  And  he  was  not 
angry,  after  all.  A  great  wave  of  relief  swept  over 
her.  But  it  was  odd  how  helpless  she  felt.  Since  her 
arrival  in  England  months  before  there  had  always 
been  Henri  to  look  after  things  for  her.  It  was  in 
credible  to  recall  how  little  she  had  done  for  herself. 

Was  she  glad  to  be  back?  She  did  not  ask  herself. 
It  was  as  though  the  voyage  had  automatically  de 
tached  her  from  that  other  Sara  Lee  of  the  little  house. 
That  was  behind  her,  a  dream  —  a  mirage  —  or  a 
memory.  Here,  a  trifle  confused  by  the  bustle,  was 
once  again  the  Sara  Lee  who  had  knitted  for  Anna, 
and  tended  the  plants  in  the  dining-room  window,  and 
watched  Uncle  James  slowly  lowered  into  his  quiet 
grave. 

Part  of  her  detachment  was  voluntary.     She  could 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    259 

not  bear  to  remember.  She  had  but  to  close  her  eyes 
to  see  Henri's,  tragic  face  that  last  night  at  Morley's. 
And  part  of  the  detachment  was  because,  after  all,  the 
interlude  had  been  but  a  matter  of  months,  and  reach 
ing  out  familiar  hands  to  her  were  the  habits  and  cus 
toms  and  surroundings  of  all  the  earlier  years  of  her 
life,  drawing  her  back  to  them. 

It  was  strange  how  Henri's  face  haunted  her.  She 
could  close  her  eyes  and  see  it,  line  by  line,  his  very 
swagger — for  he  did  swagger,  just  a  little;  his  tall 
figure  and  unruly  hair;  his  long,  narrow,  muscular 
hands.  Strange  and  rather  uncomfortable.  Because 
she  could  not  summon  Harvey's  image  at  all.  She 
tried  to  bring  before  her,  that  night  in  the  train  speed 
ing  west,  his  solid  figure  and  kind  eyes  as  they  would 
greet  her  the  next  day  —  tried,  and  failed.  All  she  got 
was  the  profile  of  the  photograph,  and  the  stubborn 
angle  of  the  jaw. 

She  was  up  very  early  the  next  morning,  and  it  was 
then,  as  the  train  rolled  through  familiar  country,  that 
she  began  to  find  Harvey  again.  A  flush  of  tenderness 
warmed  her.  She  must  be  very  kind  to  him  because  of 
all  that  he  had  suffered. 

The  train  came  to  a  stop.  Rather  breathless  Sara 
Lee  went  out  on  the  platform.  Harvey  was  there,  in 
the  crowd.  He  did  not  see  her  at  first.  He  was  look 
ing  toward  the  front  of  the  train.  So  her  first  glimpse 
of  him  was  the  view  of  the  photograph.  His  hat  was 
off,  and  his  hair,  carefully  brushed  back,  gave  him  the 
eager  look  of  the  picture. 


26o    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

He  was  a  strong  and  manly  figure,  as  unlike  Henri 
as  an  oak  is  unlike  one  of  Henri's  own  tall  and  swaying 
poplars.  Sara  Lee  drew  a  long  breath.  Here  after 
all  were  rest  and  peace ;  love  and  gentleness ;  quiet  days 
and  still  evenings.  No  more  crowds  and  wounds  and 
weary  men,  no  more  great  thunderings  of  guns,  no  im 
minence  of  death.  Rest  and  peace. 

Then  Harvey  saw  her,  and  the  gleam  of  happiness 
and  relief  in  his  eyes  made  her  own  eyes  misty.  She 
saw  even  in  that  first  glance  that  he  looked  thinner  and 
older.  A  pang  of  remorse  shot  through  her.  Was 
happiness  always  bought  at  the  cost  of  happiness? 
Did  one  always  take  away  in  order  to  give  ?  Not  in  so 
many  words,  but  in  a  flash  of  doubt  the  thought  went 
through  her  mind. 

There  was  no  reserve  in  Harvey's  embrace.  He  put 
his  arms  about  her  and  held  her  close.  He  did  not 
speak  at  first.  Then : 

"  My  own  little  girl,"  he  said.  "  My  own  little 
girl!" 

Suddenly  Sara  Lee  was  very  happy.  All  her  doubts 
were  swept  away  by  his  voice,  his  arms.  There  was  no 
thrill  for  her  in  his  caress,  but  there  were  peace  and 
quiet  joy.  It  was  enough  for  her,  just  then,  that  she 
had  brought  back  some  of  the  happiness  she  had  robbed 
him  of. 

"  Oh,  Harvey ! "  she  said.  "  I'm  glad  to  be  back 
again  —  with  you." 

He  held  her  off  then  and  looked  at  her. 

"You  are  thin,"  he  said.     "You're  not  pale,  but 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    261 

you  are  thin."  And  in  a  harder  voice :  "  What  did 
they  do  to  you  over  there  ?  " 

But  he  did  not  wait  for  a  reply.  He  did  not  seem 
to  want  one.  He  picked  up  her  bag,  and  guiding  her 
by  the  elbow,  piloted  her  through  the  crowd. 

"  A  lot  of  folks  wanted  to  come  and  meet  you,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  steered  them  off.  You'd  have  thought 
Roosevelt  was  coming  to  town  the  way  they've  been 
calling  up." 

"To  meet  me?" 

"  I  expect  the  Ladies'  Aid  Society  wanted  to  get  into 
the  papers  again,"  he  said  rather  grimly.  "  They  are 
merry  little  advertisers,  all  right." 

"  I  don't  think  that,  Harvey." 

"  Well,  I  do,"  he  said,  and  brought  her  to  a  stop 
facing  a  smart  little  car,  very  new,  very  gay. 

"  How  do  you  like  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  Like  it?     Why,  it's  not  yours,  is  it?  " 

"  Surest  thing  you  know.  Or,  rather,  it's  ours. 
Had  a  few  war  babies,  and  they  grew  up." 

Sara  Lee  looked  at  it,  and  for  just  an  instant,  a 
rather  sickening  instant,  she  saw  Henri's  shattered  low 
car,  battle-scarred  and  broken. 

"  It's  —  lovely,"  said  Sara  Lee.  And  Harvey  found 
no  fault  with  her  tone. 

Sara  Lee  had  intended  to  go  to  Anna's,  for  a  time  at 
least.  But  she  found  that  Belle  was  expecting  her  and 
would  not  take  no. 

"  She's  moved  the  baby  in  with  the  others,"  Harvey 
explained  as  he  took  the  wheel.  "  Wait  until  you  see 


262    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

your  room.  I  knew  we'd  be  buying  furniture  soon,  so 
I  fixed  it  up." 

He  said  nothing  for  a  time.  He  was  new  to  driving 
a  car,  and  the  traffic  engrossed  him.  But  when  they 
had  reached  a  quieter  neighborhood  he  put  a  hand  over 
hers. 

"  Good  God,  how  I've  been  hungry  for  you ! "  he 
said.  "  I  guess  I  was  pretty  nearly  crazy  sometimes." 
He  glanced  at  her  apprehensively,  but  if  she  knew  his 
connection  with  her  recall  she  showed  no  resentment. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  there  was  in  his  voice  something 
that  reminded  her  of  Henri,  the  same  deeper  note, 
almost  husky. 

She  was,  indeed,  asking  herself  very  earnestly  what 
was  there  in  her  of  all  people  that  should  make  two 
men  care  for  her  as  both  Henri  and  Harvey  cared.  In 
the  humility  of  all  modest  women  she  was  bewildered. 
It  made  her  rather  silent  and  a  little  sad.  She  was  so 
far  from  being  what  they  thought  her. 

Harvey,  stealing  a  moment  from  the  car  to  glance  at 
her,  saw  something  baffling  in  her  face. 

"Do  you  still  care,  Sara  Lee?"  he  asked  almost 
diffidently.  "As  much  as  ever?" 

"  I  have  come  back  to  you,"  she  said  after  an  im 
perceptible  pause. 

"  Well,  I  guess  that's  the  answer." 

He  drew  a  deep  satisfied  breath.  "  I  used  to  think 
of  you  over  there,  and  all  those  foreigners  in  uni 
form  strutting  about,  and  it  almost  got  me,  some 
times." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    263 

And  again,  as  long  before,  he  read  into  her  passivity 
his  own  passion,  and  was  deeply  content. 

Belle  was  waiting  on  the  small  front  porch.  There 
was  an  anxious  frown  on  her  face,  and  she  looked  first, 
not  at  Sara  Lee,  but  at  Harvey.  What  she  saw  there 
evidently  satisfied  her,  for  the  frown  disappeared. 
She  kissed  Sara  Lee  impulsively. 

All  that  afternoon,  much  to  Harvey's  resentment, 
Sara  Lee  received  callers.  The  Ladies'  Aid  came  en 
masse  and  went  out  to  the  dining-room  and  there  had 
tea  and  cake.  Harvey  disappeared  when  they  came. 

"  You  are  back,"  he  said,  "  and  safe,  and  all  that. 
But  it's  not  their  fault.  And  I'll  be  hanged  if  I'll 
stand  round  and  listen  to  them." 

He  got  his  hat  and  then,  finding  her  alone  in  a  back 
hall  for  a  moment,  reverted  uneasily  to  the  subject. 

"  There  are  two  sides  to  every  story,"  he  said. 
"  They're  going  to  knife  me  this  afternoon,  all  right. 
Damned  hypocrites !  You  just  keep  your  head,  and  I'll 
tell  you  my  side  of  it  later." 

"  Harvey,"  she  said  slowly,  "  I  want  to  know  now 
just  what  you  did.  I'm  not  angry.  I've  never  been 
angry.  But  I  ought  to  know." 

It  was  a  very  one-sided  story  that  Harvey  told  her, 
standing  in  the  little  back  hall,  with  Belle's  children 
hanging  over  the  staircase  and  begging  for  cake.  Yet 
in  the  main  it  was  true.  He»had  reached  his  limit  of 
endurance.  She  was  in  danger,  as  the  photograph 
plainly  showed.  And  a  fellow  had  a  right  to  fight  for 
his  own  happiness. 


264    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  I  wanted  you  back,  that's  all,"  he  ended.  And 
added  an  anticlimax  by  passing  a  plate  of  sliced  jelly 
roll  through  the  stair  rail  to  the  clamoring  children. 

Sara  Lee  stood  there  for  a  moment  after  he  had 
gone.  He  was  right,  or  at  least  he  had  been  within 
his  rights.  She  had  never  even  heard  of  the  new 
doctrine  of  liberty  for  women.  There  was  nothing  in 
her  training  to  teach  her  revolt.  She  was  engaged  to 
Harvey;  already,  potentially,  she  belonged  to  him.  He 
had  interfered  with  her  life,  but  he  had  had  the  right 
to  interfere. 

And  also  there  was  in  the  back  of  her  mind  a  feeling 
that  was  almost  guilt.  She  had  let  Henri  tell  her  he 
loved  her.  She  had  even  kissed  him.  And  there  had 
been  many  times  in  the  little  house  when  Harvey,  for 
days  at  a  time,  had  not  even  entered  her  thoughts. 
There  was,  therefore,  a  very  real  tenderness  in  the  face 
she  lifted  for  his  good-by  kiss. 

To  Belle  in  the  front  hall  Harvey  gave  a  firm  order. 

"  Don't  let  any  reporters  in,"  he  said  warningly. 
"  This  is  strictly  our  affair.  It's  a  private  matter.  It's 
nobody's  business  what  she  did  over  there.  She's 
home.  That's  all  that  matters." 

Belle  assented,  but  she  was  uneasy.  She  knew  that 
Harvey  was  unreasonably,  madly  jealous  of  Sara  Lee's 
work  at  the  little  house  of  mercy,  and  she  knew  him 
well  enough  to  know  that  sooner  or  later  he  would 
show  that  jealousy.  She  felt,  too,  that  the  girl  should 
have  been  allowed  her  small  triumph  without  interfer 
ence.  There  had  been  interference  enough  already. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    265 

But  it  was  easier  to  yield  to  Harvey  than  to  argue  with 
him. 

It  was  rather  a  worried  Belle  who  served  tea  that 
afternoon  in  her  dining  room,  with  Mrs.  Gregory 
pouring ;  the  more  uneasy,  because  already  she  divined 
a  change  in  Sara  Lee.  She  was  as  lovely  as  ever,  even 
lovelier.  But  she  had  a  poise,  a  steadiness,  that  were 
new ;  and  silences  in  which,  to  Belle's  shrewd  eyes,  she 
seemed  to  be  weighing  things. 

Reporters  clamored  to  see  Sara  Lee  that  day,  and, 
failing  to  see  her,  telephoned  Harvey  at  his  office  to 
ask  if  it  was  true  that  she  had  been  decorated  by  the 
King.  He  was  short  to  the  point  of  affront. 

"  I  haven't  heard  anything  about  it,"  he  snapped. 
"  And  I  wouldn't  say,  if  I  had.  But  it's  not  likely. 
What  d'you  fellows  think  she  was  doing  anyhow? 
Leading  a  charge?  She  was  running  a  soup  kitchen. 
That's  all." 

He  hung  up  the  receiver  with  a  jerk,  but  shortly 
after  that  he  fell  to  pacing  his  small  office.  She  had 
not  said  anything  about  being  decorated,  but  the  re 
porters  had  said  it  had  been  in  a  London  newspaper. 
If  she  had  not  told  him  that,  there  were  probably  many 
things  she  had  not  told  him.  But  of  course  there  had 
been  very  little  time.  He  would  see  if  she  mentioned 
it  that  night. 

Sara  Lee  had  had  a  hard  day.  The  children  loved 
her.  In  the  intervals  of  calls  they  crawled  over  her, 
and  the  littlest  one  called  her  Saralie.  She  held  the 
child  in  her  arms  close. 


266    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  Saralie !  "  said  the  child,  over  and  over ;  "  Saralie ! 
That's  your  name.  I  love  your  name." 

And  there  came,  echoing  in  her  ears,  Henri  and  his 
tender  Saralie. 

There  was  an  oppression  on  her  too.  Her  very  bed 
room  thrust  on  her  her  approaching  marriage.  This 
was  her  own  furniture,  for  her  new  home.  It  was 
beautiful,  simple  and  good.  But  she  was  not  ready  for 
marriage.  She  had  been  too  close  to  the  great  struggle 
to  be  prepared  to  think  in  terms  of  peace  so  soon.  Per 
haps,  had  she  dared  to  look  deeper  than  that,  she  would 
have  found  something  else,  a  something  she  had  not 
counted  on. 

She  and  Belle  had  a  little  time  after  the  visitors  had 
gone,  before  Harvey  came  home.  They  sat  in  Belle's 
bedroom,  and  her  sentences  were  punctuated  by  little 
backs  briskly  presented  to  have  small  garments  fas 
tened,  or  bows  put  on  stiffly  bobbed  yellow  hair. 

"Did  you  understand  my  letter?"  she  asked.  "I 
was  sorry  I  had  sent  it,  but  it  was  too  late  then." 

"  I  put  your  letter  and  —  theirs,  together.  I  sup 
posed  that  Harvey " 

"  He  was  about  out  of  his  mind,"  Belle  said  in  her 
worried  voice.  "  Stand  still,  Mary  Ellen !  He  went 
to  Mrs.  Gregory,  and  I  suppose  he  said  a  good  bit. 
You  know  the  way  he  does.  Anyhow,  she  was  very 
angry.  She  called  a  special  meeting,  and  —  I  tried  to 
prevent  their  recalling  you.  He  doesn't  know  that,  of 
course." 

"You  tried?" 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    267 

"  Well,  I  felt  as  though  it  was  your  work,"  Belle 
said  rather  uncomfortably.  "  Bring  me  the  comb, 
Alice.  I  guess  we  get  pretty  narrow  here  and  —  I've 
been  following  things  more  closely  since  you  went  over. 
I  know  more  than  I  did.  And,  of  course,  after  one 
marries  there  isn't  much  chance.  There  are  children 

and "  Her  face  twisted.  "  I  wish  I  could  do 

something." 

She  got  up  and  brought  from  the  dresser  a  news 
paper  clipping. 

"  It's  the  London  newspaper,"  she  explained.  "  I've 
been  taking  it,  but  Harvey  doesn't  know.  He  doesn't 
care  much  for  the  English.  This  is  about  your  being 
decorated." 

Sara  Lee  held  it  listlessly  in  her  hands. 

"  Shall  I  tell  him,  Belle?  "  she  asked. 

Belle  hesitated. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  would,"  she  said  forlornly.  "  He 
won't  like  it.  That's  why  I've  never  showed  him  that 
clipping.  He  hates  it  all  so." 

Sara  Lee  dressed  that  evening  in  the  white  frock. 
She  dressed  slowly,  thinking  hard.  All  round  her  was 
the  shiny  newness  of  her  furniture,  a  trifle  crowded  in 
Belle's  small  room.  Sara  Lee  had  a  terrible  feeling  of 
being  fastened  in  by  it.  Wherever  she  turned  it 
gleamed.  She  felt  surrounded,  smothered. 

She  had  meant  to  make  a  clean  breast  of  things  — 
of  the  little  house,  and  of  Henri,  and  of  the  King,  pin 
ning  the  medal  on  her  shabby  black  jacket  and  shaking 
hands  with  her.  Henri  she  must  tell  about  —  not  his 


268    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

name  of  course,  nor  his  madness,  nor  even  his  love. 
But  she  felt  that  she  owed  it  to  Harvey  to  have  as  few 
secrets  from  him  as  possible.  She  would  tell  about 
what  the  boy  had  done  for  her,  and  how  he,  and  he 
alone,  had  made  it  all  possible. 

Surely  Harvey  would  understand.  It  was  a  page 
that  was  closed.  It  had  held  nothing  to  hurt  him. 
She  had  come  back. 

She  stood  by  her  window,  thinking.  And  a  breath 
of  wind  set  the  leaves  outside  to  rustling.  Instantly 
she  was  back  again  in  the  little  house,  and  the  sound 
was  not  leaves,  but  the  shuffling  of  many  stealthy  feet 
on  the  cobbles  of  the  street  at  night,  that  shuffling  that 
was  so  like  the  rustling  of  leaves  in  a  wood  or  th? 
murmur  of  water  running  over  a  stony  creek  bed. 


XXV 

IT  was  clear  to  Sara  Lee  from  the  beginning  of  the 
evening  that  Harvey  did  not  intend  to  hear  her 
story.     He  did  not  say  so;  indeed,  for  a  time  he  did 
not  talk  at  all.     He  sat  with  his  arms  round  her,  con 
tent  just  to  have  her  there. 

"  I  have  a  lot  of  arrears  to  make  up,"  he  said.  "  I've 
got  to  get  used  to  having  you  where  I  can  touch  you. 
To-night  when  I  go  upstairs  I'm  going  to  take  that 
damned  colorless  photograph  of  you  and  throw  it  out 
the  window/' 

"  I  must  tell  you  about  your  photograph,"  she  ven 
tured.  "  It  always  stood  on  the  mantel  over  the  stove, 
and  when  there  was  a  threatened  bombardment  I  used 
to  put  it  under " 

"  Let's  not  talk,  honey." 

When  he  came  out  of  that  particular  silence  he  said 
abruptly : 

"  Will  Leete  is  dead." 

"Oh,  no!     Poor  Will  Leete." 

"  Died  of  pneumonia  in  some  God- forsaken  hole  over 
there.  He's  left  a  wife  and  nothing  much  to  keep  her. 
That's  what  comes  of  mixing  in  the  other  fellow's 
fight.  I  guess  we  can  get  the  house  as  soon  as  we 
want  it.  She  has  to  sell;  and  it  ought  to  be  a  bar 
gain." 

269 


270    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  Harvey,"  she  said  rather  timidly,  "  you  speak  of 
the  other  fellow's  fight.  They  say  over  there  that  we 
are  SMre  to  be  drawn  into  it  sooner  or  later/' 

"  Noi  ^>n  our  life!  "  he  replied  brusquely.  "  And  if 
you  don't  mind,  honey,  I  don't  care  to  hear  about  what 
they  think  over  there."  He  got  up  from  his  old  place 
on  the  ana  of  her  chair  and  stood  on  the  rug.  "  I'd 
better  tell  you  now  how  I  feel  about  this  thing.  I  can't 
talk  about  it,  that's  all.  We'll  finish  up  now  and  let  it 
go  at  that  I'm  sorry  there's  a  war.  I'll  send  money 
when  I  can  afford  it,  to  help  the  Belgians,  though 
my  personal  opinion  is  that  they're  getting  theirs  for 
what  they  did  in  the  Congo.  But  I  don't  want  to  hear 
about  what  you  did  over  there." 

He  saw  her  face,  and  he  went  to  her  and  kissed  her 
cheek. 

"  I  don't  want  to  hurt  you,  honey,"  he  said.  "  I  love 
you  with  all  my  heart.  But  somehow  I  can't  forget 
that  you  left  me  and  went  over  there  when  there  was 
no  reason  for  it.  You  put  off  our  marriage,  and  I 
suppose  we'd  better  get  it  over.  Go  ahead  and  tell  me 
about  it." 

He  drew  up  a  chair  and  waited,  but  the  girl  smiled 
rather  tremulously. 

"  Perhaps  we'd  better  wait,  if  you  feel  that  way, 
Harvey." 

His  face  was  set  as  he  looked  at  her. 

:(  There's  only  one  thing  I  want  to  know,"  he  said. 
"  And  I've  got  a  right  to  know  that.  You're  a  young 
girl,  and  you're  beautiful  —  to  me,  anyhow.  You've 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    271 

been  over  there  with  a  lot  of  crazy  foreigners."  He 
got  up  again  and  all  the  bitterness  of  the  empty  months 
was  in  his  voice.  "  Did  any  of  them  —  was  there  any 
body  there  you  cared  about  ?  " 

"  I  came  back,  Harvey." 

"  That's  not  the  question/' 

"  There  were  many  men  —  officers  —  who  were  kind 
tome.  I » 

"  That's  not  the  question,  either/' 

"  If  I  had  loved  any  one  more  than  I  loved  you  I 
should  not  have  come  back." 

"  Wait  a  minute!  "  he  said  quickly.  "  You  had  to 
come  back,  you  know." 

"  I  could  have  stayed.  The  Englishwoman  who 
took  over  my  work  asked  me  to  stay  on  and  help  her." 

He  was  satisfied  then.  He  went  back  to  the  arm  of 
her  chair  and  kissed  her. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  I've  suffered  the  tortures  of 
the  damned,  but  —  that  fixes  it.  Now  let's  talk  about 
something  else.  I'm  sick  of  this  war  talk." 

"  I'd  like  to  tell  you  about  my  little  house.  And 
poor  Rene " 

"  Who  was  Rene?  "  he  demanded. 

"  The  orderly." 

"  The  one  on  the  step,  with  a  rifle  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Look  here,"  he  said.  "  I've  got  to  get  to  all  that 
gradually.  I  don't  know  that  I'll  ever  get  to  it  cheer 
fully.  But  I  can't  talk  about  that  place  to-night.  And 
I  don't  want  to  talk  war.  The  whole  business  makes 


272    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

me  sick.  I've  got  a  car  out  of  it,  and  if  things  keep  on 
we  may  be  able  to  get  the  Leete  house.  But  there's  no 
reason  in  it,  no  sense.  I'm  sick  to  death  of  hearing 
about  it.  Let's  talk  of  something  else." 

But  —  and  here  was  something  strange  —  Sara  Lee 
could  find  nothing  else  to  talk  about.  The  thing  that 
she  had  looked  forward  so  eagerly  to  telling  —  that 
was  barred.  And  the  small  gossip  of  their  little  circle, 
purely  personal  and  trivial,  held  only  faint  interest  for 
her.  For  the  first  time  they  had  no  common  ground 
to  meet  on. 

Yet  it  was  a  very  happy  man  who  went  whistling  to 
his  room  that  night.  He  was  rather  proud  of  himself 
too.  After  all  the  bitterness  of  the  past  months,  he 
had  been  gentle  and  loving  to  Sara  Lee.  He  had  not 
scolded  her. 

In  the  next  room  he  could  hear  her  going  quietly 
about,  opening  and  closing  the  drawers  of  the  new 
bureau,  moving  a  chair.  Pretty  soon,  God  willing, 
they  need  never  be  separated.  He  would  have  her 
always,  to  protect  and  cherish  and  love. 

He  went  outside  to  her  closed  door. 

"  Good  night,  sweetheart,"  he  called  softly. 

"  Good  night,  dear,"  came  her  soft  reply. 

But  long  after  he  was  asleep  Sara  Lee  stood  at  her 
window  and  listened  to  the  leaves,  so  like  the  feet  of 
weary  men  on  the  ruined  street  over  there. 

For  the  first  time  she  was  questioning  the  thing  she 
had  done.  She  loved  Harvey  —  but  there  were  many 
kinds  of  love.  There  was  the  love  of  Jean  for  Henri, 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    273 

and  there  was  the  wonderful  love,  though  the  memory 
now  was  cruel  and  hurt  her,  of  Henri  for  herself. 
And  there  was  the  love  of  Marie  for  the  memory  of 
Maurice  the  spy.  Many  kinds  of  love ;  and  one  heart 
might  love  many  people,  in  different  ways. 

A  small  doubt  crept  into  her  mind.  This  feeling  she 
had  for  Harvey  was  not  what  she  had  thought  it  was 
over  there.  It  was  a  thing  that  had  belonged  to  a  cer 
tain  phase  of  her  life.  But  that  phase  was  over.  It 
was,  like  Marie's,  but  a  memory. 

This  Harvey  of  the  new  car  and  the  increased  in 
come  and  the  occasional  hardness  in  his  voice  was  not 
the  Harvey  she  had  left.  Or  perhaps  it  was  she  who 
had  changed.  She  wondered.  She  felt  precisely  the 
same,  tender  toward  her  friends,  unwilling  to  hurt 
them.  She  did  not  want  to  hurt  Harvey. 

But  she  did  not  love  him  as  he  deserved  to  be  loved. 
And  she  had  a  momentary  lift  of  the  veil,  when  she  saw 
the  long  vista  of  the  years,  the  two  of  them  always 
together  and  always  between  them  hidden,  untouched, 
but  eating  like  a  cancer,  Harvey's  resentment  and  sus 
picion  of  her  months  away  from  him. 

There  would  always  be  a  barrier  between  them. 
Not  only  on  Harvey's  side.  There  were  things  she  had 
no  right  to  tell  —  of  Henri,  of  his  love  and  care  for 
her,  and  of  that  last  terrible  day  when  he  realized  what 
he  had  done. 

That  night,  lying  in  the  new  bed,  she  faced  that  situa 
tion  too.  How  much  was  she  to  blame  ?  If  Henri  felt 
that  each  life  lost  was  lost  by  him,  wasn't  the  same  true 


274    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

for  her?  Why  had  she  allowed  him  to  stay  in  Lon 
don? 

But  that  was  one  question  she  did  not  answer 
frankly. 

She  lay  there  in  the  darkness  and  wondered  what 
punishment  he  would  receive.  He  had  done  so  much 
for  them  over  there.  Surely,  surely,  they  would  allow 
for  that.  But  small  things  came  back  to  her  —  the 
awful  sight  of  the  miller  and  his  son,  led  away  to 
death,  with  the  sacks  over  their  heads.  The  relent- 
lessness  of  it  all,  the  expecting  that  men  should  give 
everything,  even  life  itself,  and  ask  for  no  mercy. 

And  this,  too,  she  remembered :  Once  in  a  wild 
moment  Henri  had  said  he  would  follow  her  to 
America,  and  that  there  he  would  prove  to  her  that  his 
and  not  Harvey's  was  the  real  love  of  her  life  —  the 
great  love,  that  comes  but  once  to  any  woman,  and  to 
some  not  at  all.  Yet  on  that  last  night  at  Morley's 
he  had  said  what  she  now  felt  was  a  final  farewell. 
That  last  look  of  his,  from  the  doorway  —  that  had 
been  the  look  of  a  man  who  would  fill  his  eyes  for  the 
last  time. 

She  got  up  and  stood  by  the  window.  What  had 
they  done  to  him?  What  would  they  do?  She 
looked  at  her  watch.  It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morn 
ing  over  there.  The  little  house  would  be  quiet  now, 
but  down  along  the  lines  men  would  be  standing  on  the 
firing  step  of  the  trench,  and  waiting,  against  what  the 
dawn  might  bring. 

Through  the  thin  wall  came  the  sound  of  Harvey's 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    275 

heavy,  regular  breathing.  She  remembered  Henri's 
light  sleeping  on  the  kitchen  floor,  his  cap  on  the  table, 
his  cape  rolled  round  him  —  a  sleeping,  for  all  his 
weariness,  so  light  that  he  seemed  always  half  con 
scious.  She  remembered  the  innumerable  times  he  had 
come  in  at  this  hour,  muddy,  sometimes  rather  gray  of 
face  with  fatigue,  but  always  cheerful. 

It  was  just  such  an  hour  that  she  found  him  giving 
hot  coffee  to  the  German  prisoner.  It  had  been  but  a 
little  earlier  when  he  had  taken  her  to  the  roof  and  had 
there  shown  her  Rene,  lying  with  his  face  up  toward 
the  sky  which  had  sent  him  death. 

A  hundred  memories  crowded  —  Henri's  love  for 
the  Belgian  soldiers,  and  theirs  for  him ;  his  humor ;  his 
absurd  riddles.  There  was  the  one  he  had  asked 
Rene,  the  very  day  before  the  air  attack.  He  had 
stood  stiffly  and  frowningly  before  the  boy,  and  he 
had  asked  in  a  highly  official  tone : 

"  What  must  a  man  be  to  be  buried  with  military 
honors  ?  " 

"A  general?" 

"  No." 

"An  officer?" 

"  No,  no !  Use  your  head,  boy !  This  is  very  im 
portant.  A  mistake  would  be  most  serious." 

Rene  had  shaken  his  head  dejectedly. 

"  He  must  be  dead,  Rene,"  Henri  had  said  gravely. 
"  Entirely  dead.  As  I  said,  it  is  well  to  know  these 
things.  A  mistake  would  be  unfortunate." 

His  blue  eyes  had  gleamed  with  fun,  but  his  face  had 


276    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

remained  frowning.  It  was  quite  five  minutes  before 
she  had  heard  Rene  chuckling  on  the  doorstep. 

Was  he  still  living,  this  Henri  of  the  love  of  life  and 
courting  of  death?  Could  anything  so  living  die? 
And  if  he  had  died  had  it  been  because  of  her?  She 
faced  that  squarely  for  the  first  time. 

"  Perhaps  even  beyond  the  stars  they  have  need  of 
a  little  house  of  mercy ;  and,  God  knows,  wherever  I  am 
I  shall  have  need  of  you." 

Beyond  the  partition  Harvey  slept  on,  his  arms  under 
his  head. 


XXVI 

HARVEY  was  clamoring  for  an  early  wedding. 
And  indeed  there  were  few  arguments  against  it, 
save  one  that  Sara  Lee  buried  in  her  heart.  Belle's 
house  was  small,  and  though  she  was  welcome  there, 
and  more  than  that,  Sara  Lee  knew  that  she  was  crowd 
ing  the  family. 

Perhaps  Sara  Lee  would  have  agreed  in  the  end. 
There  seemed  to  be  nothing  else  to  do,  though  by  the 
end  of  the  first  week  she  was  no  longer  in  any  doubt 
as  to  what  her  feeling  for  Harvey  really  was.  It  was 
kindness,  affection;  but  it  was  not  love.  She  would 
marry  him  because  she  had  promised  to,  and  because 
their  small  world  expected  her  to  do  so ;  and  because  she 
could  not  shame  him  again. 

For  to  her  surprise  she  found  that  that  was  what  he 
had  felt  —  a  strange,  self-conscious  shame,  like  that  of 
a  man  who  has  been  jilted.  She  felt  that  by  coming 
back  to  him  she  had  forfeited  the  right  to  break  the 
engagement. 

So  every  hour  of  every  day  seemed  to  make  the  thing 
more  inevitable.  Belle  was  embroidering  towels  for 
her  in  her  scant  leisure.  Even  Anna,  with  a  second 
child  coming,  sent  in  her  contribution  to  the  bride's 
linen  chest.  By  almost  desperately  insisting  on  a  visit 

277 


278    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

to  Aunt  Harriet  she  got  a  reprieve  of  a  month.  And 
Harvey  was  inclined  to  be  jealous  even  of  that. 

Sometimes,  but  mostly  at  night  when  she  was  alone, 
a  hot  wave  of  resentment  overwhelmed  her.  Why 
should  she  be  forced  into  the  thing?  Was  there  any 
prospect  of  happiness  after  marriage  when  there  was  so 
little  before? 

For  she  realized  now  that  even  Harvey  was  not 
happy.  He  had  at  last  definitely  refused  to  hear  the 
story  of  the  little  house. 

"  I'd  rather  just  forget  it,  honey,"  he  said. 

But  inconsistently  he  knew  she  did  not  forget  it,  and 
it  angered  him.  True  to  his  insistence  on  ignoring 
those  months  of  her  absence,  she  made  no  attempt  to 
tell  him.  Now  and  then,  however,  closed  in  the  li 
brary  together,  they  would  fail  of  things  to  talk  about, 
and  Sara  Lee's  knitting  needles  would  be  the  only 
sound  in  the  room.  At  those  times  he  would  sit  back 
in  his  chair  and  watch  the  far-away  look  in  her  eyes, 
and  it  maddened  him. 

From  her  busy  life  Belle  studied  them  both,  with 
an  understanding  she  did  not  reveal.  And  one  morn 
ing  when  the  mail  came  she  saw  Sara  Lee's  face  as  she 
turned  away,  finding  there  was  no  letter  for  her,  and 
made  an  excuse  to  follow  her  to  her  room. 

The  girl  was  standing  by  the  window  looking  out. 
The  children  were  playing  below,  and  the  maple  trees 
were  silent.  Belle  joined  her  there  and  slipped  an  arm 
round  her. 

"  Why  are  you  doing  it,  Sara  Lee?  "  she  asked. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    279 

"Doing  what?" 

"  Marrying  Harvey." 

Sara  Lee  looked  at  her  with  startled  eyes. 

"  I'm  engaged  to  him,  Belle.     I've  promised." 

"  Exactly,"  said  Belle  dryly.  "  But  that's  hardly  a 
good  reason,  is  it?  It  takes  more  than  a  promise." 
She  stared  down  at  the  flock  of  children  in  the  yard 
below.  "  Harvey's  a  man,"  she  said.  "  He  doesn't 
understand,  but  I  do.  You've  got  to  care  a  whole  lot, 
Sara  Lee,  if  you're  going  to  go  through  with  it.  It 
takes  a  lot  of  love,  when  it  comes  to  having  children 
and  all  that" 

"  He's  so  good,  Belle.     How  can  I  hurt  him?  " 

"  You'll  hurt  him  a  lot  more  by  marrying  him  when 
you  don't  love  him." 

"If  only  I  could  have  a  little  time,"  she  cried  wildly. 
"  I'm  so  —  I'm  tired,  Belle.  And  I  can't  forget  about 
the  war  and  all  that.  I've  tried.  Sometimes  I  think 
if  we  could  talk  it  over  together  I'd  get  it  out  of  my 
mind." 

"  He  won't  talk  about  it?  " 

"  No." 

"  He's  my  own  brother,  and  I  love  him  dearly.  But 
sometimes  I  think  he's  hard.  Not  that  he's  ever  ugly," 
she  hastened  to  add ;  "  but  he's  stubborn.  There's  a 
sort  of  wall  in  him,  and  he  puts  some  things  behind  it. 
And  it's  like  beating  against  a  rock  to  try  to  get  at 
them." 

After  a  little  silence  she  said  hesitatingly : 

"  We've  got  him  to  think  of  too.     He  has  a  right  to 


280    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

be  happy.  Sometimes  I've  looked  at  you  —  you're  so 
pretty,  Sara  Lee  —  and  I've  wondered  if  there  wasn't 
some  one  over  there  who  —  cared  for  you." 

"  There  was  one  man,  an  officer Oh,  Belle,  I 

can't  tell  you.  Not  you! " 

"  Why  not !  "  asked  Belle  practically.  "  You  ought 
to  talk  it  out  to  some  one,  and  if  Harvey  insists  on 
being  a  fool  that's  his  own  fault." 

For  all  the  remainder  of  that  sunny  morning  Sara 
Lee  talked  what  was  in  her  heart.  And  Belle  —  poor, 
romantic,  starved  Belle  —  heard  and  thrilled.  She 
made  buttonholes  as  she  listened,  but  once  or  twice  a 
new  tone  in  Sara  Lee's  voice  caused  her  to  look  up. 
Here  was  a  new  Sara  Lee,  a  creature  of  vibrant  voice 
and  glowing  eyes ;  and  Belle  was  not  stupid.  She  saw 
that  it  was  Henri  whose  name  brought  the  deeper  note. 

Sara  Lee  had  stopped  with  her  recall,  had  stopped 
and  looked  about  the  room  with  its  shiny  new  furni 
ture  and  had  shivered.  Belle  bent  over  her  work. 

"  Why  don't  you  go  back?  "  she  asked. 

Sara  Lee  looked  at  her  piteously. 

"  How  can  I  ?  There  is  Harvey.  And  the  society 
would  not  send  me  again.  It's  over,  Belle.  All  over." 

After  a  pause  Belle  said:  "What's  become  of 
Henri?  He  hasn't  written,  has  he?  " 

Sara  Lee  got  up  and  went  to  the  window. 

"  I  don't  know  where  he  is.     He  may  be  dead." 

Her  voice  was  flat  and  lifeless.  Belle  knew  all  that 
she  wanted  to  know.  She  rose  and  gathered  up  her 
sewing. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     281 

"  I'm  going  to  talk  to  Harvey.  You're  not  going  to 
be  rushed  into  a  wedding.  You're  tired,  and  it's  all 
nonsense.  Well,  I'll  have  to  run  now  and  dress  the 
children." 

That  night  Harvey  and  Belle  had  almost  a  violent 
scene.  He  had  taken  Sara  Lee  over  the  Leete  house 
that  evening.  Will  Leete's  widow  had  met  them  there, 
a  small  sad  figure  in  her  mourning,  but  very  composed, 
until  she  opened  the  door  into  a  tiny  room  upstairs 
with  a  desk  and  a  lamp  in  it. 

"  This  was  Will's  study,"  she  said.  "  He  did  his 
work  here  in  the  evenings,  and  I  sat  in  that  little  chair 

and  sewed.     I  never  thought  then "     Her  lips 

quivered. 

"  Pretty  rotten  of  Will  Leete  to  leave  that  little  thing 
alone,"  said  Harvey  on  their  way  home.  "  He  had  his 
fling;  and  she's  paying  for  it." 

But  Sara  Lee  was  silent.  It  was  useless  to  try  to 
make  Harvey  understand  the  urge  that  had  called  Will 
Leete  across  the  sea  to  do  his  share  for  the  war,  and 
that  had  brought  him  that  peace  of  God  that  passeth 
all  understanding. 

It  was  not  a  good  time  for  Belle  to  put  up  to  him  her 
suggestion  for  a  delay  in  the  marriage,  that  evening 
after  their  return.  He  took  it  badly  and  insisted  on 
sending  upstairs  for  Sara  Lee. 

"Did  you  ask  Belle  to  do  this?"  he  demanded 
bluntly. 

"To  do  what?" 


282    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  To  put  things  off." 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  Harvey,"  Belle  put  in. 
"  It  is  my  own  idea.  She  is  tired.  She's  been  through 
a  lot.  I've  heard  the  story  you're  too  stubborn  to 
listen  to.  And  I  strongly  advise  her  to  wait  a  while." 

And  after  a  time  he  agreed  ungraciously.  He 
would  buy  the  house  and  fix  it  over,  and  in  the  early 
fall  it  would  be  ready. 

"  Unless,"  he  added  to  Sara  Lee  with  a  bitterness 
born  of  disappointment — "  unless  you  change  your 
mind  again/' 

He  did  not  kiss  her  that  night  when  she  and  Belle 
went  together  up  the  stairs.  But  he  stared  after  her 
gloomily,  with  hurt  and  bewilderment  in  his  eyes. 

He  did  not  understand.  He  never  would.  She  had 
come  home  to  him  all  gentleness  and  tenderness,  ready 
to  find  in  him  the  things  she  needed  so  badly.  But  out 
of  his  obstinacy  and  hurt  he  had  himself  built  up  a 
barrier. 

That  night  Sara  Lee  dreamed  that  she  was  back  in 
the  little  house  of  mercy.  Rene  was  there ;  and  Henri ; 
and  Jean,  with  the  patch  over  his  eye.  They  were 
waiting  for  the  men  to  come,  and  the  narrow  hall  was 
full  of  the  odor  of  Marie's  soup.  Then  she  heard 
them  coming,  the  shuffling  of  many  feet  on  the  road. 
She  went  to  the  door,  with  Henri  beside  her,  and 
watched  them  coming  up  the  road,  a  deeper  shadow  in 
the  blackness  —  tired  men,  wounded  men,  homeless 
men  coming  to  her  little  house  with  its  firelight  and  its 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    283 

warmth.  Here  and  there  the  match  that  lighted  a 
cigarette  showed  a  white  but  smiling  face.  They 
stopped  before  the  door,  and  the  warm  little  house,  with 
its  guarded  lights  and  its  food  and  cheer,  took  them  in. 


XXVII 

A  VERY  pale  and  desperate  Henri  took  the  night 
train  for  Folkestone  after  he  had  said  good-by  to 
Sara  Lee.  He  alternately  chilled  and  burned  with 
fever,  and  when  he  slept,  as  he  did  now  and  then, 
going  off  suddenly  into  a  doze  and  waking  with  a  jerk, 
it  was  to  dream  of  horrors. 

He  thought,  in  his  wilder  intervals,  of  killing  him 
self.  But  his  code  did  not  include  such  a  shirker's 
refuge.  He  was  going  back  to  tell  his  story  and  to 
take  his  punishment. 

He  had  cabled  to  Jean  to  meet  him  at  Calais,  but 
when,  at  dawn  the  next  morning,  the  channel  boat  drew 
in  to  the  wharf  there  was  no  sign  of  Jean  or  the  car. 
Henri  regarded  the  empty  quay  with  apathetic  eyes. 
They  would  come,  later  on.  If  he  could  only  get  his 
head  down  and  sleep  for  a  while  he  would  be  better  able 
to  get  toward  the  Front.  For  he  knew  now  that  he 
was  ill.  He  had,  indeed,  been  ill  for  days,  but  he  did 
not  realize  that.  And  he  hated  illness.  He  regarded 
it  with  suspicion,  as  a  weakness  not  for  a  strong  man. 

The  drowsy  girl  in  her  chair  at  the  Gare  Maritime 
regarded  him  curiously  and  with  interest.  Many 
women  turned  to  look  after  Henri,  but  he  did  not  know 
this.  Had  he  known  it  he  would  have  regarded  it 
much  as  he  did  illness. 

285 


286    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

The  stupid  boy  was  not  round.  The  girl  herself 
took  the  key  and  led  the  way  down  the  long  corridor 
upstairs  to  a  room.  Henri  stumbled  in  and  fell  across 
the  bed.  He  was  almost  immediately  asleep. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  wakened.  Strange  that 
Jean  had  not  come.  He  got  up  and  bathed  his  face. 
His  right  arm  was  very  stiff  now,  and  pains  ran  from 
the  old  wound  in  his  chest  down  to  the  fingers  of  his 
hand.  He  tried  to  exercise  to  limber  it,  and  grew 
almost  weak  with  pain. 

At  six  o'clock,  when  Jean  had  not  come,  Henri  re 
sorted  to  ways  that  he  knew  of  and  secured  a  car.  He 
had  had  some  coffee  by  that  time,  and  he  felt  much 
better  —  so  well  indeed  that  he  sang  under  his  breath 
a  strange  rambling  song  that  sounded  rather  like  Rene's 
rendering  of  Tipperary.  The  driver  looked  at  him 
curiously  every  now  and  then. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  when  they  reached  La  Panne. 
Henri  went  at  once  to  the  villa  set  high  on  a  sand  dune 
where  the  King's  secretary  lived.  The  house  was  dark, 
but  in  the  library  at  the  rear  there  was  a  light.  He 
stumbled  along  the  paths  beside  the  house,  and  reached 
at  last,  after  interminable  miles,  when  the  path  some 
times  came  up  almost  to  his  eyes  and  again  fell  away 
so  that  it  seemed  to  drop  from  under  his  feet  —  at 
last  he  reached  the  long  French  doors,  with  their 
drawn  curtains.  He  opened  the  door  suddenly  and 
thereby  surprised  the  secretary,  who  was  a  most  dig 
nified  and  rather  nervous  gentleman,  into  laying  his 
hand  on  a  heavy  inkwell. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    287 

"  I  wish  to  see  the  King,"  said  Henri  in  a  loud  tone. 
Because  at  that  moment  the  secretary,  lamp  and  ink 
well  and  all,  retired  suddenly  to  a  very  great  distance, 
as  if  one  had  viewed  them  through  the  reverse  end  of 
an  opera  glass. 

The  secretary  knew  Henri.  He,  too,  eyed  him  cu 
riously. 

"  The  King  has  retired,  monsieur." 

"  I  think,"  said  Henri  in  a  dangerous  tone,  "  that  he 
will  see  me." 

To  tell  the  truth,  the  secretary  rather  thought  so  too. 
There  was  a  strange  rumor  going  round,  to  the  effect 
that  the  boy  had  followed  a  woman  to  England  at  a 
critical  time.  Which  would  have  been  a  pity,  the  sec 
retary  thought.  There  were  so  many  women,  and  so 
few  men  like  Henri. 

The  secretary  considerd  gravely.  Henri  was  by  thai 
time  in  a  chair,  but  it  moved  about  so  that  he  had  to 
hold  very  tight  to  the  arms.  When  he  looked  up  again 
the  secretary  had  picked  up  his  soft  black  hat  and  was 
at  the  door. 

"  I  shall  inquire,"  he  said.  Henri  saluted  him  stiffly, 
with  his  left  hand,  as  he  went  out. 

The  secretary  went  to  His  Majesty's  equerry,  who 
was  in  the  next  house  playing  solitaire  and  trying  to 
forget  the  family  he  had  left  on  the  other  side  of  the 
line. 

So  it  was  that  in  due  time  Henri  again  traversed 
miles  of  path  and  pavement,  between  tall  borders  of 
wild  sea  grass,  miles  which  perhaps  were  a  hundred 


288    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

yards.  And  went  round  the  screen,  and  —  found  the 
King  on  the  hearthrug.  But  when  he  drew  himself 
stiffly  to  attention  he  overdid  the  thing  rather  and  went 
over  backward  with  a  crash. 

He  was  up  again  almost  immediately,  very  flushed 
and  uncomfortable.  After  that  he  kept  himself  in 
hand,  but  the  King,  who  had  a  way  all  his  own  of  for 
getting  his  divine  right  to  rule,  and  a  great  many  other 
things  —  the  King  watched  him  gravely. 

Henri  sat  in  a  chair  and  made  a  clean  breast  of  it. 
Because  he  was  feeling  rather  strange  he  told  a  great 
many  things  that  an  agent  of  the  secret  service  is  hardly 
expected  to  reveal  to  his  king.  He  mentioned,  for  in 
stance,  the  color  of  Sara  Lee's  eyes,  and  the  way  she 
bandaged,  like  one  who  had  been  trained. 

Once,  in  the  very  middle  of  his  narrative,  where  he 
had  put  the  letter  from  the  Front  in  his  pocket  and 
decided  to  go  to  England  anyhow,  he  stopped  and 
hummed  Rene's  version  of  Tipperary.  Only  a  bar  or 
two.  Then  he  remembered. 

But  one  thing  brought  him  round  with  a  start. 

"  Then,"  said  the  King  slowly,  "  Jean  was  not  with 
you?" 

Only  he  did  not  call  him  Jean.  He  gave  him  his 
other  name,  which,  like  Henri's,  is  not  to  be  told. 

Henri's  brain  cleared  then  with  the  news  that  Jean 
was  missing.  When,  somewhat  later,  he  staggered  out 
of  the  villa,  it  was  under  royal  instructions  to  report 
to  the  great  hospital  along  the  sea  front  and  near  by, 
and  there  to  go  to  bed  and  have  a  doctor.  Indeed, 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     289 

because  the  boy's  eyes  were  wild  by  that  time,  the 
equerry  went  along  and  held  his  arm.  But  that  was 
because  Henri  was  in  open  revolt,  and  while  walking 
steadily  enough  showed  a  tendency  to  bolt  every  now 
and  then. 

He  would  stop  on  the  way  and  argue,  though  one 
does  not  argue  easily  with  an  equerry. 

"  I  must  go,"  he  would  say  fretfully.  "  God  knows 
where  he  is.  He'd  never  give  me  up  if  I  were  the 
one." 

And  once  he  shook  off  the  equerry  violently  and 
said: 

"  Let  go  of  me,  I  tell  you !  I'll  come  back  and  go  to 
bed  when  I've  found  him." 

The  equerry  soothed  him  like  a  child. 

An  English  nurse  took  charge  of  Henri  in  the  hos 
pital,  and  put  him  to  bed.  He  was  very  polite  to  her, 
and  extremely  cynical.  She  sat  in  a  chair  by  his  bed 
and  held  the  key  of  the  room  in  her  hand.  Once  he 
thought  she  was  Sara  Lee,  but  that  was  only  for  a 
moment.  She  did  not  look  like  Sara  Lee.  And  she 
was  suspicious,  too;  for  when  he  asked  her  what  she 
could  put  in  her  left  hand  that  she  could  not  put  in  her 
right,  she  moved  away  and  placed  the  door  key  on  the 
stand,  out  of  reach. 

However,  toward  morning  she  dozed.  There  was 
steady  firing  at  Nieuport  and  the  windows  shook  con 
stantly.  An  ambulance  came  in,  followed  by  a  stirring 
on  the  lower  floor.  Then  silence.  He  got  up  then 
and  secured  the  key.  There  was  no  time  for  dressing, 


290    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

because  she  was  a  suspicious  person  and  likely  to  waken 
at  any  time.  He  rolled  his  clothing  into  a  bundle  and 
carried  it  under  his  well  arm.  The  other  was  almost 
useless. 

The  ambulance  was  still  waiting  outside,  at  the  foot 
of  the  staircase.  There  were  voices  and  lights  in  the 
operating  room,  forward  along  the  tiled  hall.  Still  in 
his  night  clothing,  Henri  got  into  the  ambulance  and 
threw  his  uniform  behind  him.  Then  he  got  the  car 
under  way. 

Outside  the  village  he  paused  long  enough  to  dress. 
His  head  was  amazingly  clear.  He  had  never  felt  so 
sure  of  himself  before.  As  to  his  errand  he  had  no 
doubt  whatever.  Jean  had  learned  that  he  had  crossed 
the  channel.  Therefore  Jean  had  taken  up  his  work 

—  Jean,  who  had  but  one  eye  and  was  as  clumsy  as  a 
bear.     The  thought  of  Jean  crawling  through  the  Ger 
man  trenches  set  him  laughing  until  he  ended  with  a 
sob. 

It  was  rather  odd  about  the  ambulance.  It  did  not 
keep  the  road  very  well.  Sometimes  it  was  on  one  side 
and  sometimes  on  the  other.  It  slid  as  though  the 
road  were  greased.  And  after  a  time  Henri  made  an 
amazing  discovery.  He  was  not  alone  in  the  car. 

He  looked  back,  without  stopping,  and  the  machine 
went  off  in  a  wide  arc.  He  brought  it  back  again, 
grinning. 

"  Thought  you  had  me,  didn't  you?  "  he  observed  to 
the  car  in  general,  and  the  engine  in  particular.  "  Now 

—  no  tricks!" 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     291 

There  was  a  wounded  man  in  the  car.  He  had  had 
morphia  and  he  was  very  comfortable.  He  was  not 
badly  hurt,  and  he  considered  that  he  was  being  taken 
to  Calais.  He  was  too  tired  to  talk,  and  the  swinging 
of  the  car  rather  interested  him.  He  would  doze  and 
waken  and  doze  again.  But  at  last  he  heard  some 
thing  that  made  him  rise  on  his  elbow. 

It  was  the  hammering  of  the  big  guns. 

He  called  Henri's  attention  to  this,  but  Henri 
said: 

"  Lie  down,  Jean,  and  don't  talk.  We'll  make  it 
yet." 

The  wounded  man  intended  to  make  a  protest,  but 
he  went  to  sleep  instead. 

They  had  reached  the  village  now  where  was  the 
little  house  of  mercy.  The  ambulance  rolled  and 
leaped  down  the  street,  with  both  ligHts  full  on,  which 
was  forbidden,  and  came  to  a  stop  at  the  door.  The 
man  inside  was  grunting  then,  and  Henri,  whose  head 
had  never  been  so  clear,  got  out  and  went  round  to  the 
rear  of  the  car. 

"  Now,  out  with  you,  comrade !  "  he  said.  "  I  have 
made  an  error,  but  it  is  immaterial.  Can  you  walk?  " 

He  lighted  a  cigarette,  and  the  man  inside  saw  his 
burning  eyes  and  shaking  hands.  Even  through  the 
apathy  of  the  morphia  he  felt  a  thrill  of  terror.  He 
could  walk.  He  got  out  while  Henri  pounded  at  the 
door. 

"  Attention! "  he  called.     "  Attention! " 

Then  he  hummed  an  air  of  the  camps : 


292    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Trou  Id,  la,  qa  ne  va  guere; 
Trou  la  la,  qa  ne  va,  pas. 

When  he  heard  steps  inside  Henri  went  back  to  the 
ambulance.  He  got  in  and  drove  it,  lights  and  all, 
down  the  street. 

Trou  la  la,  qa  ne  va  guere; 
Trou  la  la,  qa  ne  va  pas. 

Somewhere  down  the  road  beyond  the  poplar  trees 
he  abandoned  the  ambulance.  They  found  it  there  the 
next  morning,  or  rather  what  was  left  of  it.  Evi 
dently  its  two  unwinking  eyes  had  got  on  the  Germans' 
nerves. 

Early  the  next  morning  a  Saxon  regiment,  standing 
on  the  firing  step  ready  for  what  the  dawn  might  bring 
forth,  watched  the  mist  rise  from  the  water  in  front 
of  them.  It  shone  on  a  body  in  a  Belgian  uniform, 
lying  across  their  wire,  and  very  close  indeed. 

Now  the  Saxons  are  not  Prussians,  so  no  one  for 
sport  fired  at  the  body.  Which  was  rather  a  good 
thing,  because  it  moved  slightly  and  stirred.  And  then 
in  a  loud  voice,  which  is  an  unusual  thing  for  bodies 
to  possess,  it  began  to  sing : 

Trou  Id  Id,  qa  ne  va  guere; 
Trou  Id  Id,  qa  ne  va  pas. 


XXVIII 

LATE  in  August  Sara  Lee  broke  her  engagement 
with  Harvey.  She  had  been  away,  at  Cousin 
Jennie's,  for  a  month,  and  for  the  first  time  since  her 
return  she  had  had  time  to  think.  In  the  little  subur 
ban  town  there  were  long  hours  of  quiet  when  Cousin 
Jennie  mended  on  the  porch  and  Aunt  Harriet,  enjoy 
ing  a  sort  of  reflected  glory  from  Sara  Lee,  presided 
at  Red  Cross  meetings. 

Sara  Lee  decided  to  send  for  Harvey,  and  he  came 
for  a  week-end,  arriving  pathetically  eager,  but  with  a 
sort  of  defiance  too.  He  was  determined  to  hold  her, 
but  to  hold  her  on  his  own  terms. 

Aunt  Harriet  had  been  vaguely  uneasy,  but  Har 
vey's  arrival  seemed  to  put  everything  right.  She  even 
kissed  him  when  he  came,  and  took  great  pains  to  carry 
off  Cousin  Jennie  when  she  showed  an  inclination  to 
ward  conversation  and  a  seat  on  the  porch. 

Sara  Lee  had  made  a  desperate  resolve.  She  in 
tended  to  lay  all  her  cards  on  the  table.  He  should 
know  all  that  there  was  to  know.  If,  after  that,  he  still 
wanted  to  hold  her  —  but  she  did  not  go  so  far.  She 
was  so  sure  he  would  release  her. 

It  was  a  despairing  thing  to  do,  but  she  was  rather 
despairing  those  days.  There  had  been  no  letter  from 
Henri  or  from  Jean.  She  had  written  them  both  sev 
eral  times,  to  Dunkirk,  to  the  Savoy  in  London,  to  the 

293 


294    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

little  house  near  the  Front.  But  no  replies  had  come. 
Yet  mail  was  going  through.  Mabel  Andrews'  let 
ters  from  Boulogne  came  regularly. 

When  August  went  by,  with  no  letters  save  Har 
vey's,  begging  her  to  come  back,  she  gave  up  at  last. 
In  the  little  church  on  Sundays,  with  Jennie  on  one 
side  and  Aunt  Harriet  on  the  other,  she  voiced  small 
silent  prayers  —  that  the  thing  she  feared  had  hot 
happened.  But  she  could  not  think  of  Henri  as  not 
living.  He  was  too  strong,  too  vital. 

She  did  not  understand  herself  those  days.  She 
was  desperately  unhappy.  Sometimes  she  wondered 
if  it  would  not  be  easier  to  know  the  truth,  even  if  that 
truth  comprehended  the  worst. 

Once  she  received,  from  some  unknown  hand,  a 
French  journal,  and  pored  over  it  for  days  with  her 
French  dictionary,  to  find  if  it  contained  any  news. 
It  was  not  until  a  week  later  that  she  received  a  letter 
from  Mabel,  explaining  that  she  had  sent  the  journal, 
which  contained  a  description  of  her  hospital. 

All  of  Harvey's  Sunday  she  spent  in  trying  to  bring 
her  courage  to  *he  point  of  breaking  the  silence  he  had 
imposed  on  her,  but  it  was  not  until  evening  that  she 
succeeded.  The  house  was  empty.  The  family  had 
gone  to  church.  On  the  veranda,  with  the  heavy  scent 
of  phlox  at  night  permeating  the  still  air,  Sara  Lee 
made  her  confession.  She  began  at  the  beginning. 
Harvey  did  not  stir  —  until  she  told  of  the  way  she 
had  stowed  away  to  cross  the  channel.  Then  he 
moved. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     295 

"  This  fellow  who  planned  that  for  you  —  did  you 
ever  see  him  again  ?  " 

"  He  met  me  in  Calais." 

"And  then  what?" 

"  He  took  me  to  Dunkirk  in  his  car.  Such  a  hid 
eous  car,  Harvey  —  all  wrecked.  It  had  been  under 
fire  again  and  again.  I " 

"  He  took  you  to  Dunkirk !     Who  was  with  you  ?  " 

"Just  Jean,  the  chauffeur." 

"  I  like  his  nerve !  Wasn't  there  in  all  that  God 
forsaken  country  a  woman  to  take  with  you?  You 
and  this What  was  his  name,  anyhow  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  that,  Harvey." 

"  Look  here !  "  he  burst  out.  "  How  much  of  this 
aren't  you  going  to  tell  ?  Because  I  want  it  all  or  not 
at  all." 

"  I  can't  tell  you  his  name.  I'm  only  trying  to  make 
you  understand  the  way  I  feel  about  things.  His  name 
doesn't  matter."  She  clenched  her  hands  in  the  dark- 
ne'ss.  "  I  don't  think  he  is  alive  now." 

He  tried  to  see  her  face,  but  she  turned  it  away. 

"  Dead,  eh?     What  makes  you  think  that?  " 

"  I  haven't  heard  from  him." 

"  Why  should  you  hear  from  him?  "  His  voice  cut 
like  a  knife.  "  Look  at  me.  Why  should  he  write 
to  you  ?  " 

"  He  cared  for  me,  Harvey." 

He  sat  in  a  heavy  silence  which  alarmed  her. 

"  Don't  be  angry,  please,"  she  begged.  "  I  couldn't 
bear  it.  It  wasn't  my  fault,  or  his  either." 


296    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  The  damned  scoundrel !  "  said  Harvey  thickly. 

But  she  reached  over  and  put  a  trembling  hand 
over  his  lips. 

"Don't  say  that,"  she  said.  "Don't!  I  won't 
allow  you  to.  When  I  think  what  may  have  happened 
to  him,  I "  Her  voice  broke. 

"  Go  on,"  Harvey  said  in  cold  tones  she  had  never 
heard  before.  "  Tell  it  all,  now  you've  begun  it. 
God  knows  I  didn't  want  to  hear  it.  He  took  you  to 
the  hotel  at  Dunkirk,  the  way  those  foreigners  take 
their  women.  And  he  established  you  in  the  house  at 
the  Front,  I  suppose,  like  a " 

Sara  Lee  suddenly  stood  up  and  drew  off  her 
ring. 

"  You  needn't  go  on,"  she  said  quietly.  "  I  had  a 
decision  to  make  to-night,  and  I  have  made  it.  Ever 
since  I  came  home  I  have  been  trying  to  go  back  to 
where  we  were  before  I  left.  It  isn't  possible.  You 
are  what  you  always  were,  Harvey.  But  I've  changed. 
I  can't  go  back." 

She  put  the  ring  into  his  hand. 

"  It  isn't  that  you  don't  love  me.  I  think  you  do. 
But  I've  been  thinking  things  over.  It  isn't  only  to 
night,  or  what  you  just  said.  It's  because  we  don't 
care  for  the  same  things,  or  believe  in  them." 

"  But  —  if  we  love  each  other " 

"  It's  not  that,  either.  I  used  to  feel  that  way.  A 
home,  and  some  one  to  care  about,  and  a  little  pleas 
ure  and  work." 

"  That  ought  to  be  enough,  honey." 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    297 

He  was  terrified.  His  anger  was  gone.  He  placed 
an  appealing  hand  on  her  arm,  and  as  she  stood  there 
in  the  faint  starlight  the  wonder  of  her  once  again 
got  him  by  the  throat.  She  had  that  sort  of  repressed 
eagerness,  that  look  of  being  poised  for  flight,  that  had 
always  made  him  feel  cheap  and  unworthy. 

"  Isn't  that  enough,  honey?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Not  now,"  she  said,  her  eyes  turned  toward  the 
east.  "  These  are  great  days,  Harvey.  They  are 
greater  and  more  terrible  than  any  one  can  know  who 
has  not  been  there.  I've  been  there  and  I  know.  I 
haven't  the  right  to  all  this  peace  and  comfort  when  I 
know  how  things  are  going  over  there." 

Down  the  quiet  street  of  the  little  town  service  was 
over.  The  last  hymn  had  been  sung.  Through  the 
open  windows  came  the  mellow  sound  of  the  minister's 
voice  in  benediction,  too  far  away  to  be  more  than  a 
tone,  like  a  single  deep  note  of  the  organ.  Sara  Lee 
listened.  She  knew  the  words  he  was  saying,  and  she 
listened  with  her  eyes  turned  to  the  east : 

"  The  peace  of  God  that  passeth  all  understanding 
be  and  abide  with  you  all,  forevermore.  Amen." 

Sara  Lee  listened,  and  from  the  step  below  her  Har 
vey  watched  her  with  furtive,  haggard  eyes.  He  had 
not  heard  the  benediction. 

"  The  peace  of  God !  "  she  said  slowly.  "  There  is 
only  one  peace  of  God,  Harvey,  and  that  is  service. 
I  am  going  back." 

"  Service !  "  he  scoffed.  "  You  are  going  back  to 
him!" 


298    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  I'm  afraid  he  is  not  there  any  more.  I  am  going 
back  to  work.  But  if  he  is  there " 

Harvey  slid  the  ring  into  his  pocket.  "  What  if  he's 
not  there,"  he  demanded  bitterly.  "  If  you  think,  after 
all  this,  that  I'm  going  to  wait,  on  the  chance  of  your 
coming  back  to  me,  you're  mistaken.  I've  been  a 
laughing  stock  long  enough." 

In  the  light  of  her  new  decision  Sara  Lee  viewed  him 
for  the  first  time  with  the  pitiless  eyes  of  women  who 
have  lost  a  faith.  She  saw  him  for  what  he  was,  not 
deliberately  cruel,  not  even  unkindly,  but  selfish,  small, 
without  vision.  Harvey  was  for  his  own  fireside,  his 
office,  his  little  family  group.  His  labor  would  al 
ways  be  for  himself  and  his  own.  Whereas  Sara  Lee 
was,  now  and  forever,  for  all  the  world,  her  hands  con 
secrated  to  bind  up  its  little  wounds  and  to  soothe  its 
great  ones.  Harvey  craved  a  cheap  and  easy  peace. 
She  wanted  no  peace  except  that  bought  by  service,  the 
peace  of  a  tired  body,  the  peace  of  the  little  house  in 
Belgium  where,  after  days  of  torture,  weary  men  found 
quiet  and  ease  and  the  cheer  of  the  open  door. 


XXIX 

LATE  in  October  Sara  Lee  went  back  to  the  little 
house  of  mercy;  went  unaccredited,  and  with  her 
own  money.  She  had  sold  her  bit  of  property. 

In  London  she  went  to  the  Traverses,  as  before. 
But  with  a  difference  too.  For  Sara  Lee  had  learned 
the  strangeness  of  the  English,  who  are  slow  to  friend 
ships  but  who  never  forget.  Indeed  a  telegram  met 
her  at  Liverpool  asking  her  to  stop  with  them  in  Lon 
don.  She  replied,  refusing,  but  thanking  them,  and 
saying  she  would  call  the  next  afternoon. 

Everything  was  the  same  at  Morley's:  Rather  a 
larger  percentage  of  men  in  uniform,  perhaps;  greater 
crowds  in  the  square;  a  little  less  of  the  optimism 
which  in  the  spring  had  predicted  victory  before 
autumn.  But  the  same  high  courage,  for  all  that. 

August  greeted  her  like  an  old  friend.  Even  the 
waiters  bowed  to  her,  and  upstairs  the  elderly  chamber 
maid  fussed  over  her  like  i  mother. 

"  And  you're  going  back !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Fancy 
that,  now!  You  are  brave,  miss." 

But  her  keen  eyes  saw  a  change  in  Sara  Lee.  Her 
smile  was  the  same,  but  there  were  times  when  she  for 
got  to  finish  a  sentence,  and  she  stood,  that  first  morn 
ing,  for  an  hour  by  the  window,  looking  out  as  if  she 
saw  nothing. 

She  went,  before  the  visit  to  the  Traverses,  to  the 

299 


300    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Church  of  Saint  Martin  in  the  Fields.  It  was  empty, 
save  for  a  woman  in  a  corner,  who  did  not  kneel,  but 
sat  staring  quietly  before  her.  Sara  Lee  prayed  an  in 
articulate  bit  of  a  prayer,  that  what  the  Traverses 
would  have  to  tell  her  should  not  be  the  thing  that  she 
feared,  but  that,  if  it  were,  she  be  given  courage  to 
meet  it  and  to  go  on  with  her  work. 

The  Traverses  would  know ;  Mrs.  Cameron  was  a 
friend.  They  would  know  about  Henri,  and  about 
Jean.  Soon,  within  the  hour,  she  would  learn  every 
thing.  So  she  asked  for  strength,  and  then  sat  there 
for  a  time,  letting  the  peace  of  the  old  church  quiet 
her,  as  had  the  broken  walls  and  shattered  altar  of  that 
other  church,  across  the  channel. 

It  was  rather  a  surprise  to  Sara  Lee  to  have  Mrs. 
Travers  put  her  arms  about  her  and  kiss  her.  Mr. 
Travers,  too,  patted  her  hand  when  he  took  it.  But 
they  had,  for  all  that,  the  reserve  of  their  class.  Much 
that  they  felt  about  Sara  Lee  they  did  not  express  even 
to  each  other. 

"  We  are  so  grateful  to  you,"  Mrs.  Travers  said. 

"  I  am  only  one  mother,  and  of  course  now "  She 

looked  down  at  her  black  dress.  "  But  how  many 
mothers  there  are  who  will  want  to  thank  you,  when 
this  terrible  thing  is  over  and  they  learn  about  you !  " 

Mr.  Travers  had  been  eying  Sara  Lee. 

"Didn't  use  you  up,  did  it?"  he  asked.  "You're 
not  looking  quite  fit." 

Sara  Lee  was  very  pale  just  then.  In  a  moment  she 
would  know. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    301 

"  I'm  quite  well,"  she  said.  "I  —  do  you  hear  from 
Mrs.  Cameron  ?  " 

"  Frequently.  She  has  worked  hard,  but  she  is  not 
young."  It  was  Mrs.  Travers  who  spoke.  "  She's 
afraid  of  the  winter  there.  I  rather  think,  since  you 
want  to  go  back,  that  she  will  be  glad  to  turn  your  do 
main  over  to  you  for  a  time." 

"  Then  —  the  little  house  is  still  there  ?  " 

"  Indeed,  yes !  A  very  famous  little  house,  indeed. 
But  it  is  always  known  as  your  house.  She  has  felt 
like  a  temporary  chatelaine.  She  always  thought  you 
would  come  back." 

Tea  had  come,  as  before.  The  momentary  stir 
gave  her  a  chance  to  brace  herself.  Mr.  Travers 
brought  her  cup  to  her  and  smiled  gently  down  at  her. 

"  We  have  a  plan  to  talk  over,"  he  said,  "  when 
you  have  had  your  tea.  I  hope  you  will  agree  to  it." 

He  went  back  to  the  hearthrug. 

"  When  I  was  there  before,"  Sara  Lee  said,  trying 
to  hold  her  cup  steady,  "  there  was  a  young  Belgian 
officer  who  was  very  kind  to  me.  Indeed,  all  the  credit 
for  what  I  did  belongs  to  him.  And  since  I  went  home 
I  haven't  heard " 

Her  voice  broke  suddenly.  Mr.  Travers  glanced  at 
his  wife.  Not  for  nothing  had  Mrs.  Cameron  written 
her  long  letters  to  these  old  friends,  in  the  quiet  sum 
mer  afternoons  when  the  sun  shone  down  on  the  life 
less  street  before  the  little  house. 

"  I'm  afraid  we  have  bad  news  for  you."  Mrs. 
Travers  put  down  her  untasted  tea.  "  Or  rather,  we 


302     THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

have  no  news.  Of  course,"  she  added,  seeing  Sara 
Lee's  eyes,  "  in  this  war  no  news  may  be  the  best  — 
that  is,  he  may  be  a  prisoner." 

"  That,"  Sara  Lee  heard  herself  say,  "  is  impossible. 
"If  they  captured  him  they  would  shoot  him." 

Mrs.  Travers  nodded  silently.  They  knew  Henri's 
business,  too,  by  that  time,  and  that  there  was  no  hope 
for  a  captured  spy. 

"And  — Jean?" 

They  did  not  know  of  Jean;  so  she  told  them,  still 
in  that  far-away  voice.  And  at  last  Mrs.  Travers 
brought  an  early  letter  of  Mrs.  Cameron's  and  read  a 
part  of  it  aloud. 

"  He  seems  to  have  been  delirious,"  she  read,  hold 
ing  her  reading  glasses  to  her  eyes.  "  A  friend  of  his, 
very  devoted  to  him,  was  missing,  and  he  learned  this 
somehow. 

"  He  escaped  from  the  hospital  and  got  away  in  an 
ambulance.  He  came  straight  here  and  wakened  us. 
There  had  been  a  wounded  man  in  the  machine,  and  he 
left  him  on  our  doorstep.  When  I  got  to  the  door  the 
car  was  going  wildly  toward  the  Front,  with  both  lamps 
lighted.  We  did  not  understand  then,  of  course,  and 
no  one  thought  of  following  it.  The  ambulance  was 
found  smashed  by  a  shell  the  next  morning,  and  at 
first  we  thought  that  he  had  been  in  it.  But  there  was 
no  sign  that  he  had  been,  and  that  night  one  of  the  men 
from  the  trenches  insisted  that  he  had  climbed  out  of 
a  firing  trench  where  the  soldier  stood,  and  had  gone 
forward,  bareheaded,  toward  the  German  lines. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    303 

"  I  am  afraid  it  was  the  end.  The  men,  however, 
who  all  loved  him,  do  not  think  so.  It  seems  that  he 
has  done  miracles  again  and  again.  I  understand  that 
along  the  whole  Belgian  line  they  watch  for  him  at 
night.  The  other  night  a  German  on  reconnoissance 
got  very  close  to  our  wire,  and  was  greeted  not  by  shots 
but  by  a  wild  hurrah.  He  was  almost  paralyzed  with 
surprise.  They  brought  him  here  on  the  way  back  to 
the  prison  camp,  and  he  still  looked  dazed." 

Sara  Lee  sat  with  her  hands  clenched.  Mrs.  Trav- 
ers  folded  the  letter  and  put  it  back  into  its  envelope. 

"  How  long  ago  was  that  ? "  Sara  Lee  asked  in  a 
low  tone.  "  Because,  if  he  was  coming  back  at 
all " 

"  Four  months." 

Suddenly  Sara  Lee  stood  up. 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you,"  she  said  with  a  dead- 
white  face,  "  that  I  am  responsible.  He  cared  for  me ; 
and  I  was  in  love  with  him  too.  Only  I  didn't  know 
it  then.  I  let  him  bring  me  to  England,  because  — 
I  suppose  it  was  because  I  loved  him.  I  didn't  think 
then  that  it  was  that.  I  was  engaged  to  a  man  at 
home." 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Mr.  Travers.  "  My  dear  child, 
nothing  can  be  your  fault." 

"  He  came  with  me,  and  the  Germans  got  through. 
He  had  had  word,  but " 

"  Have  you  your  salts  ?  "  Mr.  Travers  asked  quietly 
of  his  wife. 

"  I'm  not  fainting.     I'm  only  utterly  wretched." 


304    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

The  Traverses  looked  at  each  other.  They  were 
English.  They  had  taken  their  own  great  loss  quietly, 
because  it  was  an  individual  grief  and  must  not  be  in 
truded  on  the  sorrow  of  a  nation.  But  they  found  this 
white-faced  girl  infinitely  appealing,  a  small  and  fragile 
figure,  to  whose  grief  must  be  added,  without  any  fault 
of  hers,  a  bitter  and  lasting  remorse. 

Sara  Lee  stood  up  and  tried  to  smile. 

"  Please  don't  worry  about  me,"  she  said.  "  I  need 
something  to  do,  that's  all.  You  see,  I've  been  worry 
ing  for  so  long.  If  I  can  get  to  work  and  try  to  make 
up  I'll  not  be  so  hopeless.  But  I  am  not  quite  hopeless, 
either,"  she  added  hastily.  It  was  as  though  by  the 
very  word  she  had  consigned  Henri  to  death.  "  You 
see,  I  am  like  the  men ;  I  won't  give  him  up.  And  per 
haps  some  night  he  will  come  across  from  the  other 
side,  out  of  the  dark/' 

Mr.  Travers  took  her  back  to  the  hotel.  When  he 
returned  from  paying  off  the  taxi  he  found  her  looking 
across  at  the  square. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  she  asked  him,  "  the  time  when 
the  little  donkey  was  hurt  over  there  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  forget  it." 

"  And  the  young  officer  who  ran  out  when  I  did,  and 
shot  the  poor  thing?" 

Mr.  Travers  remembered. 

"  That  was  he  —  the  man  we  have  been  speaking 
of." 

For  the  first  time  that  day  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    305 

Sara  Lee,  at  twenty,  was  already  living  in  her  mem 
ories. 

So  again  the  lights  went  down  in  front,  and  the  back 
drop  became  but  a  veil,  and  invisible.  And  to  Sara 
Lee  there  came  back  again  some  of  the  characters  of 
the  early  mise  en  scene  —  marching  men,  forage 
wagons,  squadrons  of  French  cavalry  escorting  various 
staffs,  commandeered  farm  horses  with  shaggy  fetlocks 
fastened  in  rope  corrals,  artillery  rumbling  along  rutted 
roads  which  shook  the  gunners  almost  off  the  limbers. 

Nothing  was  changed  —  and  everything.  There 
was  no  Rene  to  smile  his  adoring  smile,  but  Marie  came 
out,  sobbing  and  laughing,  and  threw  herself  into  the 
girl's  arms.  The  little  house  was  the  same,  save  for 
a  hole  in  the  kitchen  wall.  There  were  the  great  piles 
of  white  bowls  and  the  shining  kettles.  There  was  the 
corner  of  her  room,  patched  by  Rene's  hands,  now  so 
long  quiet.  A  few  more  shell  holes  in  the  street,  many 
more  little  crosses  in  the  field  near  the  poplar  trees, 
more  Allied  aeroplanes  in  the  air  —  that  was  all  that 
was  changed. 

But  to  Sara  Lee  everything  was  changed,  for  all  that. 
The  little  house  was  grave  and  still,  like  a  house  of  the 
dead.  Once  it  had  echoed  to  young  laughter,  had  re 
sounded  to  the  noise  and  excitement  of  Henri's  every 
entrance.  Even  when  he  was  not  there  it  was  as 
though  it  but  waited  for  him  to  stir  it  into  life,  and 
small  echoes  of  his  gayety  had  seemed  to  cling  to  its 
old  walls. 


306    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Sara  Lee  stood  on  the  doorstep  and  looked  within. 
She  had  come  back.  Here  she  would  work  and  wait, 
and  if  in  the  goodness  of  providence  he  should  come 
back,  here  he  would  find  her,  all  the  empty  months 
gone  and  forgotten.  If  he  did  not 

"  I  shall  still  be  calling  you,  and  waiting,"  he  had 
written.  She,  too,  would  call  and  wait,  and  if  not 
here,  then  surely  in  the  fullness  of  time  which  is  eter 
nity  the  call  would  be  answered. 

In  October  Sara  Lee  took  charge  again  of  the  little 
house.  Mrs.  Cameron  went  back  to  England,  but  not 
until  the  Traverses'  plan  had  been  revealed.  They 
would  support  the  little  house,  as  a  memorial  to  the  son 
who  had  died.  It  was,  Mrs.  Travers  wrote,  the  finest 
tribute  they  could  offer  to  his  memory,  that  night  after 
night  tired  and  ill  and  wounded  men  might  find  sanctu 
ary,  even  for  a  little  time,  under  her  care. 

Luxuries  began  to  come  across  the  channel,  food  and 
dressings  and  tobacco.  Knitted  things,  too;  for  an 
other  winter  was  coming,  and  already  the  frost  lay 
white  on  the  fields  in  the  mornings.  The  little  house 
took  on  a  new  air  of  prosperity.  There  were  days 
when  it  seemed  almost  swaggering  with  opulence. 

It  had  need  of  everything,  however.  With  the  pros 
pect  of  a  second  winter,  when  an  advance  was  impossi 
ble,  the  Germans  took  to  hammering  again.  Bombard 
ment  was  incessant.  The  little  village  was  again  under 
suspicion,  and  there  came  days  of  terror  when  it  seemed 
as  though  even  the  fallen  masonry  must  be  reduced  to 
powder.  The  church  went  entirely. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    307 

By  December  Sara  Lee  had  ceased  to  take  refuge 
during  the  bombardments.  The  fatalism  of  the  Front 
had  got  her.  She  would  die  or  live  according  to  the 
great  plan,  and  nothing  could  change  that.  She  did 
not  greatly  care  which,  except  for  her  work,  and  even 
that  she  felt  could  be  carried  on  by  another  as  well. 

There  was  no  news  of  Henri,  but  once  the  King's 
equerry,  going  by,  had  stopped  to  see  her  and  had  told 
her  the  story. 

"  He  was  ill,  undoubtedly,"  he  said.  "  Even  when 
he  went  to  London  he  was  ill,  and  not  responsible. 
The  King  understands  that.  He  was  a  brave  boy, 
mademoiselle." 

But  the  last  element  of  hope  seemed  to  go  with  that 
verification  of  his  illness.  He  was  delirious,  and  he 
had  gone  in  that  condition  into  the  filthy  chill  waters  of 
the  inundation.  Well  and  sane  there  had  been  a 
chance,  but  plunging  wild-eyed  and  reckless,  into  that 
hell  across,  there  was  none. 

She  did  her  best  in  the  evenings  to  be  cheerful,  to 
take  the  place,  in  her  small  and  serious  fashion,  of 
Henri's  old  gayety.  But  the  soldiers  whispered 
among  themselves  that  mademoiselle  was  in  grief,  as 
they  were,  for  the  blithe  young  soldier  who  was  gone. 

What  hope  Sara  Lee  had  had  died  almost  entirely 
early  in  December.  On  the  evening  of  a  day  when  a 
steady  rain  had  turned  the  roAds  into  slimy  pitfalls,  and 
the  ditches  to  canals,  there  came,  brought  by  a  Belgian 
corporal,  the  man  who  swore  that  Henri  had  passed 
him  in  his  trench  while  the  others  slept,  had  shoved 


3o8    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

him  aside,  which  was  unlike  his  usual  courtesy,  and 
had  climbed  out  over  the  top. 

To  Sara  Lee  this  Hutin  told  his  story.  A  short  man 
with  a  red  beard  and  a  kindly  smile  that  revealed  teeth 
almost  destroyed  from  neglect,  he  was  at  first  diffident 
in  the  extreme. 

"  It  was  the  captain,  mademoiselle/'  he  asserted. 
"  I  know  him  well.  He  has  often  gone  on  his  errands 
from  near  my  post.  I  am  " —  he  smiled  — "  I  am 
usually  in  the  front  line." 

"  What  did  he  do?" 

"  He  had  no  cap,  mademoiselle.  I  thought  that  was 
odd.  And  as  you  know  —  he  does  not  wear  his  own 
uniform  on  such  occasions.  But  he  wore  his  own  uni 
form,  so  that  at  first  I  did  not  know  what  he  intended." 

"  Later  on,"  she  asked,  "  you  —  did  you  hear  any 
thing?" 

"  The  usual  sniping,  mademoiselle.     Nothing  more." 

"  He  went  through  the  inundation?  " 

"  How  else  could  he  go  ?  Through  the  wire  first, 
at  the  barrier,  where  there  is  an  opening,  if  one  knows 
the  way.  I  saw  him  beyond  it,  by  the  light  of  a  fusee. 
There  is  a  road  there,  or  what  was  once  a  road.  He 
stood  there.  Then  the  lights  went  out/' 


XXX 

ON  a  wild  night  in  January  Sara  Lee  inaugurated 
a  new  branch  of  service.     There  had  been  a  delay 
in  sending  up  to  the  Front  the  men  who  had  been 
on  rest,  and  an  incessant  bombardment  held  the  troops 
prisoners  in  their  trenches. 

A  field  kitchen  had  been  destroyed.  The  men  were 
hungry,  disheartened,  wet  through.  They  needed  her, 
she  felt.  Even  the  little  she  could  do  would  help.  All 
day  she  had  made  soup,  and  at  evening  Marie  led  from 
its  dilapidated  stable  the  little  horse  that  Henri  had 
once  brought  up,  trundling  its  cart  behind  it.  The 
boiler  of  the  cart  was  scoured,  a  fire  lighted  in  the  fire 
box.  Marie,  a  country  girl,  harnessed  the  shaggy  little 
animal,  but  with  tears  of  terror. 

"  You  will  be  killed,  mademoiselle/'  she  protested, 
weeping. 

"  But  I  have  gone  before.  Don't  you  remember  the 
man  whose  wife  was  English,  and  how  I  wrote  a  letter 
for  him  before  he  died  ?  " 

"  What  will  become  of  the  house  if  you  are  killed?  " 

"  Dear  Marie/'  said  Sara  Lee,  "  that  is  all  arranged 
for.  You  will  send  to  Poperinghe  for  your  aunt,  and 
she  will  come  until  Mrs.  Cameron  or  some  one  else  can 
come  from  England.  And  you  will  stay  on.  Will  you 
promise  that?  " 

309 


3io    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

Marie  promised  in  a  loud  wail. 

"  Of  course  I  shall  come  back,"  Sara  Lee  said,  stir 
ring  her  soup  preparatory  to  pouring  it  out.  "  I  shall 
be  very  careful." 

"  You  will  not  come  back,  mademoiselle.  You  do 
not  care  to  live,  and  to  such " 

"  Those  are  the  ones  who  live  on,"  said  Sara  Lee 
gravely,  and  poured  out  her  soup. 

She  went  quite  alone.  There  was  a  great  deal  of 
noise,  but  no  shells  fell  near  her.  She  led  the  little 
horse  by  its  head,  and  its  presence  gave  her  comfort. 
It  had  a  sense  that  she  had  not,  too,  for  it  kept  her  on 
the  road. 

In  those  still  early  days  the  Belgian  trenches  were 
quite  accessible  from  the  rear.  There  were  no  long 
tunneled  ways  to  traverse  to  reach  them.  One  went 
along  through  the  darkness  until  the  sound  of  men's 
voices,  the  glare  of  charcoal  in  a  busket  bored  with 
holes,  the  flicker  of  a  match,  told  of  the  buried  army 
almost  underfoot  or  huddled  in  its  flimsy  shelters  be 
hind  the  railway  embankment. 

Beyond  the  lines  a  sentry  stopped  her,  hailing  her 
sharply. 

"  Quivive?" 

"It  is  I,"  she  called  through  the  rain.  "I  have 
brought  some  chocolate  and  some  soup." 

He  lowered  his  bayonet. 

"  Pass,  mademoiselle." 

She  went  on,  the  rumbling  of  her  little  cart  dead 
ened  by  the  Belgian  guns. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    311 

Through  the  near-by  trenches  that  night  went  the 
word  that  near  the  Repose  of  the  Angels  —  which  was 
but  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  scarcely  reposeful  —  there 
was  to  be  had  hot  soup  and  chocolate  and  cigarettes. 
A  dozen  or  so  at  a  time,  the  men  were  allowed  to  come. 
Officers  brought  their  great  capes  to  keep  the  girl  dry. 
Boards  appeared  as  if  by  magic  for  her  to  stand  on. 
The  rain  and  the  bombardment  had  both  ceased,  and  a 
full  moon  made  the  lagoon  across  the  embankment  into 
a  silver  lake. 

When  the  last  soup  had  been  dipped  from  the  tall 
boiler,  when  the  final  drops  of  chocolate  had  oozed 
from  the  faucet,  Sara  Lee  turned  and  went  back  to  the 
little  house  again.  But  before  she  went  she  stood  a 
moment  staring  across  toward  that  land  of  the  shadow 
on  the  other  side,  where  Henri  had  gone  and  had  not 
returned. 

Once,  when  the  King  had  decorated  her,  she  had 
wished  that,  wherever  Uncle  James  might  be,  on  the 
other  side,  he  could  see  what  was  happening.  And  now 
she  wondered  if  Henri  could  know  that  she  had  come 
back,  and  was  again  looking  after  his  men  while 
she  waited  for  that  reunion  he  had  so  firmly  be 
lieved  in. 

Then  she  led  the  little  horse  back  along  the  road. 

At  the  poplar  trees  she  turned  and  looked  behind, 
toward  the  trenches.  The  grove  was  but  a  skeleton 
now,  a  strange  and  jagged  thing  of  twisted  branches, 
as  though  it  had  died  in  agony.  She  stood  there  while 
the  pony  nuzzled  her  gently.  If  she  called,  would  he 


3i2    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

come  ?  But,  then,  all  of  life  was  one  call  now,  for  her. 
She  went  on  slowly. 

After  that  it  was  not  unusual  for  her  to  go  to  the 
trenches,  on  such  nights  as  no  men  could  come  to  the 
little  house.  Always  she  was  joyously  welcomed,  and 
always  on  her  way  back  she  turned  to  send  from  the 
poplnr  trees  that  inarticulate  aching  call  that  she  had 
come  somehow  to  believe  in. 

January,  wet  and  raw,  went  by;  February,  colder, 
with  snow,  was  half  over.  The  men  had  ceased  to 
watch  for  Henri  over  the  parapet,  and  his  brave  deeds 
had  become  fireside  tales,  to  be  told  at  home,  if  ever 
there  were  to  be  homes  again  for  them. 

Then  one  night  Henri  came  back  —  came  as  he  had 
gone,  out  of  the  shadows  that  had  swallowed  him  up; 
came  without  so  much  as  the  sound  of  a  sniper's  rifle 
to  herald  him.  A  strange,  thin  Henri,  close  to  starva 
tion,  dripping  water  over  everything  from  a  German 
uniform,  and  very  close  indeed  to  death  before  he  called 
out. 

There  was  wild  excitement  indeed.  Bearded  private 
soldiers,  forgetting  that  name  and  rank  of  his  which 
must  not  be  told,  patted  his  thin  shoulders.  Officers 
who  had  lived  through  such  horrors  as  also  may  not  be 
told,  crowded  about  him  and  shook  hands  with  him, 
and  with  each  other. 

It  was  as  though  from  the  graveyard  back  in  the 
fields  had  come,  alive  and  smiling,  some  dearly  be 
loved  friend. 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    313 

He  would  have  told  the  story,  but  he  was  wet  and 
weary. 

"  That  can  wait,"  they  said,  and  led  him,  a  motley 
band  of  officers  and  men  intermixed,  for  once  forget 
ting  all  decorum,  toward  the  village.  They  overtook 
the  lines  of  men  who  had  left  the  trenches  and  were 
moving  with  their  slow  and  weary  gait  up  the  road. 
The  news  spread  through  the  column.  There  were 
muffled  cheers.  Figures  stepped  out  of  the  darkness 
with  hands  out.  Henri  clasped  as  many  as  he  could. 

When  with  his  escort  he  had  passed  the  men  they 
fell,  almost  without  orders,  into  columns  of  four,  and 
swung  in  behind  him.  There  was  no  band,  but  from  a 
thousand  throats,  yet  cautiously  until  they  passed  the 
poplar  trees,  there  gradually  swelled  and  grew  a 
marching  song. 

Behind  Henri  a  strange  guard  of  honor  —  muddy, 
tired,  torn,  even  wounded  —  they  marched  and  sang: 

Trou  la  la,  ga  ne  va  guere; 
Trou  la  la,  qe  ne  va  pas. 

Sara  Lee,  listening  for  that  first  shuffle  of  many  feet 
that  sounded  so  like  the  wind  in  the  trees  or  water  over 
the  pebbles  of  a  brook,  paused  in  her  work  and  lifted 
her  head.  The  rhythm  of  marching  feet  came  through 
the  wooden  shutters.  The  very  building  seemed  to 
vibrate  with  it.  And  there  was  a  growling  sound  with  it 
soon  she  knew  to  be  the  deep  voices  of  singing  men. 


3H    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

She  went  to  the  door  and  stood  there,  looking  down 
the  street.  Behind  her  was  the  warm  glow  of  the 
lamp,  all  the  snug  invitation  of  the  little  house. 

A  group  of  soldiers  had  paused  in  front  of  the  door 
way,  and  from  them  one  emerged  —  tall,  white,  in 
finitely  weary  —  and  looked  up  at  her  with  unbelieving 
eyes. 

After  all,  there  are  no  words  for  such  meetings. 
Henri  took  her  hand,  still  with  that  sense  of  unreality, 
and  bent  over  it.  And  Sara  Lee  touched  his  head  as 
he  stooped,  because  she  had  called  for  so  long,  and 
only  now  he  had  come. 

"  So  you  have  come  back ! "  she  said  in  what  she 
hoped  was  a  composed  tone  —  because  a  great  many 
people  were  listening.  He  raised  his  head  then  and 
looked  at  her. 

"  It  is  you  who  have  come  back,  mademoiselle." 

There  was  gayety  in  the  little  house  that  night. 
Every  candle  was  lighted.  They  were  stuck  in  rows 
on  mantel-shelves.  They  blazed  —  and  melted  into 
strange  arcs  —  above  the  kitchen  stove.  There  were 
cigarettes  for  everybody,  and  food ;  and  a  dry  uniform, 
rather  small,  for  Henri.  Marie  wept  over  her  soup, 
and  ran  every  few  moments  to  the  door  to  see  if  he 
was  still  there.  She  had  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks 
when  he  came  in,  and  showed  signs,  every  now  and 
then,  of  doing  it  again. 

Sara  Lee  did  her  bandaging  as  usual,  but  with  shin 
ing  eyes.  And  soon  after  Henri's  arrival  a  dispatch 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE     315 

rider  set  off  post  haste  with  certain  papers  and  maps, 
hurriedly  written  and  drawn.  Henri  had  not  only  re 
turned,  he  had  brought  back  information  of  great  value 
to  all  the  Allied  armies. 

So  Sara  Lee  bandaged,  and  in  the  little  room  across 
the  way,  where  no  longer  Harvey's  photograph  sat  on 
the  mantel,  Henri  told  his  story  to  the  officers  —  of 
his  imprisonment  in  the  German  prison  at  Crefeld ;  of 
his  finding  Jean  there,  weeks  later  when  he  was  con 
valescing  from  typhoid ;  of  their  escape  and  long  wan 
dering;  of  Jean's  getting  into  Holland,  whence  he 
would  return  by  way  of  England.  Of  his  own  busi 
ness,  of  what  he  had  done  behind  the  lines  after  Jean 
had  gone,  he  said  nothing.  But  his  listeners  knew  and 
understood. 

But  his  dispatches  off,  his  story  briefly  told,  Henri 
wandered  out  among  the  men  again.  He  was  very 
happy.  He  had  never  thought  to  be  so  happy.  He 
felt  the  touch  on  his  sleeves  of  hard  brown,  not  over- 
clean  hands,  infinitely  tender  and  caressing;  and  over 
there,  as  though  she  had  never  gone,  was  Sara  Lee, 
slightly  flushed  and  very  radiant. 

And  as  though  he  also  had  never  gone  away,  Henri 
pushed  into  the  salle  a  manger  and  stood  before  her 
smiling. 

"  You  bandage  well,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  gayly. 
"  But  I  ?  I  bandage  better !  See  now,  a  turn  here, 
and  it  is  done !  Does  it  hurt,  Paul  ?  " 

The  man  in  the  dressing  chair  squirmed  and  grinned 
sheepishly. 


316    THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE 

"  The  iodine,"  he  explained.     "  It  is  painful." 

"  Then  I  shall  ask  you  a  question,  and  you  will  for 
get  the  iodine.  Why  is  a  dead  German  like  the  tail  of 
a  pig?" 

Paul  failed.  The  room  failed.  Even  Colonel 
Lilias  confessed  himself  at  fault. 

"  Because  it  is  the  end  of  the  swine/'  explained 
Henri,  and  looked  about  him  triumphantly.  A  gust  of 
laughter  spread  through  the  room  and  even  to  the 
kitchen.  A  door  banged.  Henri  upset  a  chair. 
There  was  noise  again,  and  gayety  in  the  little  house  of 
mercy.  And  much  happiness. 

And  there  I  think  we  may  leave  them  all  —  Henri 
and  Sara  Lee ;  and  Jean  of  the  one  eye  and  the  faithful 
heart;  and  Marie,  with  her  kettles;  and  even  Rene, 
who  still  in  some  strange  way  belonged  to  the  little 
house,  as  though  it  were  something  too  precious  to 
abandon. 

The  amazing  interlude  had  become  the  play  itself. 
Never  again  for  Sara  Lee  would  the  lights  go  up  in 
front,  and  Henri  with  his  adoring  eyes  and  open  arms 
fade  into  the  shadows. 

The  drama  of  the  war  plays  on.  The  Great  Play 
wright  sees  fit,  now  and  then,  to  take  away  some  well- 
beloved  players.  New  faces  appear  and  disappear. 
The  music  is  the  thunder  of  many  guns.  Henri  still 
plays  his  big  part,  Sara  Lee  her  little  one.  Yet  who 
shall  say,  in  the  end,  which  one  has  done  the  better? 
There  are  new  and  ever  new  standards,  but  love  re 
mains  the  chief.  And  love  is  Sara  Lee's  one  quality  — 


THE  AMAZING  INTERLUDE    317 

love  of  her  kind,  of  tired  men  and  weary,  the  love  that 
shall  one  day  knit  this  broken  world  together.  And 
love  of  one  man. 

On  weary  nights,  when  Henri  is  again  lost  in  the 
shadows,  Sara  Lee,  her  work  done,  the  men  gone,  sits1 
in  her  little  house  of  mercy  and  waits.  The  stars  ,jn 
clear  evenings  shine  down  on  the  roofless  buildings,  on 
the  rubbish  that  was  once  the  mill,  on  the  ruined  poplar 
trees,  and  on  the  small  acre  of  peace  where  tiny  crosses 
mark  the  long  sleep  of  weary  soldiers. 

And  sometimes,  though  she  knows  it  now  by  heart, 
she  reads  aloud  that  letter  of  Henri's  to  her.  It  com 
forts  her.  It  is  a  promise. 

"  If  that  is  to  be,  then  think  of  me,  somewhere,  per 
haps  with  Rene  by  my  side,  since  he,  too,  loved  you. 
And  I  shall  still  be  calling  you,  and  waiting.  Perhaps, 
even  beyond  the  stars,  they  have  need  of  a  little  house 
of  mercy.  And  God  knows,  wherever  I  am,  I  shall 
have  need  of  you." 


(THE  END) 


YB  69  M8 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 
BERKELEY 

Return  to  desk  from  which  borrowed. 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


LD 

1957 


NOV  1 2  19BZ 


L! 


JUL  261961 


-10  A! 

LOAN  DEPT. 

INTER-LISRAjfey 
LOAN 


BK.CIR.AU6  17  78 


LD  21-100m-ll,'49(B7146sl6)476 


BOOKS 


